


Tell Me You're (Still) Mine

by iwillnotbecaged



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Eventual Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Polyamory, V-Shaped Relationship, poor communication skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: When Bucky walks into the diner, Sam just wants to make sure he has a delicious meal and good night's rest. But the longer he sticks around, the more his presence exposes the cracks and fault lines in the life Sam and Steve have built.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely based on [this tumblr post](http://babbleon.tumblr.com/post/81905121270/someone-should-write-a-story-based-on-these)
> 
> I don't know how long this will be or how regularly it will update, but I do know that everyone loves Sam and it'll have a happy ending (eventually).
> 
> I'll update the tags and rating as needed :)

Sam had just finished wiping down the counter when the bell over the door rang. He looked up to tell whoever it was that they were just about to close up, but changed his mind when he saw the guy.

The man looked exhausted, strands of his long hair sticking to his neck with sweat, dust covering his black boots and the bottoms of his black jeans. He was wearing long sleeves despite the warm weather, and he looked like he might be about to fall over. The fluorescent lights of the diner washed him out, his skin taking on a sickly pallor despite the fading tan.

“Come on in and take a load off,” Sam invited. The man scanned the empty room and decided on one of the stools at the end of the counter. He turned so that his back was towards the wall and rested his right arm on the counter. He took his backpack off and slid it under the counter by his feet.

Sam brought over a glass of water and a menu. “Looks like you could use this. We’ve just about closed up the kitchen, but we can put something together for you if you’re hungry. And I think we might have a slice or two of apple pie left, if that’s your kind of thing.”

“Thanks.” The man’s voice was warmer than Sam had expected. He spoke softly, almost as if he was afraid of being overheard. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, it had more strength behind it. “Um, a coffee? And whatever kind of sandwich isn’t too much trouble? I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem. You like corned beef? Steve makes an excellent reuben.”

“Yeah, sure. But really, anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”

“Anything’s better than an MRE, right?” The man’s head snapped up at that. Sam gave him a smile he hoped was reassuring. “We always recognize our own. I’ll go get that sandwich started for you.”

He went back to the kitchen where Steve was cleaning up and making sure everything was set for the morning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just about done and then we can head home.”

Sam hugged him from behind and kissed the back of his neck. “Actually, we’ve got one more, if you don’t mind. Looks like he’s had a rough day. Think you can put together a reuben for him real quick?”

Steve placed his hand over Sam’s where it rested on his stomach. “Yeah, no problem. But I thought you were gonna start kicking out the people who walked in at closing time from now on.”

Sam could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well, I’ll start that tomorrow.”

Steve turned in his arms and gave him a kiss. “You’re such a softie.”

“It’s why you love me.”

Steve’s smile was soft and tender. “Yeah, it is.” He leaned down to kiss him again.

“Alright, alright, make the man his sandwich. I’m gonna take him a coffee.” Sam pulled away and went over to the coffeepot. Thankfully Miles had stayed late studying, so they’d brewed a fresh pot not that long ago.

“And try to weasel his life story out of him.”

Sam scoffed in mock offense. “What? I would never!”

“Uh huh. Go. Fill him up with caffeine and kindness before we send him on his way.”

“Hey, don’t knock the power of caffeine and kindness.” Sam gave him a grin and turned to head back to the front.

The man’s eyes snapped toward him at the sound of the door opening. Sam set the coffee mug down on the counter, then pulled out the container of sugar packets. “You need any cream?”

“Nah, just sugar’s fine.”

Sam started wrapping silverware to have something to do with his hands. “Steve’ll have that sandwich up in just a minute. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Uh, Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. What brings you to Henning?”

“I was trying to make it to Memphis tonight, but my car broke down a few miles back on 69. I’m usually pretty good at fixing it myself, but apparently I’m gonna need a part this time. Your place was the first one I saw with the lights on.”

Before Sam could ask any more questions, Steve came out from the back with a giant sandwich and a couple bags of chips.

“Here you go!” He set the plate on the counter in front of Bucky. “I would have done some fries for you, but we already turned the fryer off for the night, and I don’t think you’d want what’s left from earlier.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. This looks great. You really didn’t have to do this.”

Steve gave him one of his megawatt smiles. “It was no problem. And we _were_ still open when you came in.”

Bucky just nodded in response, took a bite of his sandwich, and groaned. “Oh my god. I haven’t had a reuben like this since I left Brooklyn.”

Steve laughed. “Well, that’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten. You a Brooklyn boy, too?”

“Yeah, grew up in Bed-Stuy. Before the gentrification. You?”

“Ridgewood.” Steve extended his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Bucky Barnes. So how did you end up way the fuck out here in the middle of nowhere?” Sam and Steve both laughed, and Bucky looked a little sheepish. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure it’s great, it’s just - not exactly Brooklyn.”

“No, it’s not. That was part of the appeal, actually. I love New York, but I needed a change of pace after getting out of the service. Turns out the middle of nowhere suits me just fine now.”

“If you say so.” 

Bucky went back to his sandwich, and Steve slipped an arm around Sam’s waist. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up and then I’ll be ready to head home.”

“Sounds good.” Sam turned to give him a quick kiss, and saw Bucky startle out of the corner of his eye. Sam raised an eyebrow at him as Steve left, wondering if there was going to be a problem. He wasn’t worried — he and Steve could handle themselves — but he’d rather avoid the mess.

Thankfully, Bucky just ducked his head and gave him a small half-smile before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“So, since you weren’t exactly planning to stop in our lovely little town, you need a place to stay tonight?”

Bucky swallowed. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, to be honest.”

“Well, we’ve got a guest room, if you’d like to stay with us.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“You wouldn’t be. My ma comes up to visit often enough that we keep it all set up. We even added a bathroom when we fixed up that part of the house. We could drive you to the hotel back in Ripley if you’d rather, but it might make it hard for you to get back to your car tomorrow.”

“Don’t you need to check with Steve first?”

“Nah, he’s probably already expected me to offer.”

“You do this a lot?”

Sam shrugged. “Occasionally. Mostly Steve knows I got a soft spot for people who look like they might need a hand.”

Bucky blushed at that. The color in his cheeks looked good on him, healthy. “Well, thank you. Hopefully I’ll be able to get my car fixed up tomorrow and get out of your hair.”

“No hurry.” Sam gestured toward the now empty plate. “If you’re done with that, I’ll take it to the back and we can be on our way.”

 

Bucky hung out at the counter while Sam and Steve finished closing up. He wasn’t sure why he had agreed to stay with them. His car wasn’t really that far away - he’d certainly walked a lot farther than a couple of miles in much worse conditions before. The weather was finally starting to cool off; it wasn’t so hot that sleeping in the back seat would be unbearable.

But Sam had smiled at him and offered up his guest room so easily. Almost like Bucky was doing _him_ a favor by staying. It probably wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made, but Sam and Steve didn’t seem like the type to lure him home and then hack him to pieces with a chainsaw.

Then again, sometimes it was the nice ones you had to watch out for.

His morbid thoughts were interrupted by Sam and Steve coming out from the back of the diner. They led the way out of the diner and to an old pick-up truck in the parking lot.

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze, but thankfully the ride’s not too long,” Steve said, climbing in the driver’s seat.

Sam slid into the middle, insisting that Bucky was taller and needed the leg room more. Bucky was pretty sure they were the same height and Sam was just too nice for his own good. He climbed in after him and pulled the door closed behind him. The bench seat was definitely not made to accommodate three large men, and Bucky accidentally elbowed Sam in the side while trying to get his seat belt buckled, sending shooting pains up and down his left arm.

“Sorry.” He said through gritted teeth, shifting as close to the door as possible, adjusting his backpack on his lap.

Sam gave him another one of his bright smiles. “No worries. I’m used to Steve’s pointy elbows, so I barely even noticed that.”

“Hey! My elbows are not that pointy!”

Sam patted Steve’s hand where it rested on the steering wheel. “Sure they’re not, honey. You keep telling yourself that.”

Bucky watched Sam out of the corner of his eye in the glow of the passing street lights. He was beautiful, singing along with the radio and laughing at Steve when he tried to join in. It was obvious that he and Steve had something good together, but Bucky couldn’t help but admire his high cheekbones, his full lips, his skin that looked so soft Bucky’s fingers itched to touch.

Eventually they were on the outskirts of town and the street lights were gone, leaving only the glow of the dashboard lights in the truck. He turned his attention out the window, watching as the houses passed by. They grew fewer and farther between until Steve turned onto a gravel drive and headed up a hill.

At the top of the hill was an old farmhouse, larger than Bucky was expecting. The windows were dark, but the porch light was on and welcoming.

“Do you guys actually farm out here?” Bucky couldn’t imagine it would be possible to run a farm and a diner with just the two of them.

“Nah,” Sam answered, clambering out of the truck behind him. “We’ve got a bit of land, but we’re not doing anything with it yet.”

“I’ve been thinking about starting a vegetable garden,” Steve added.

Sam turned to him, “Oh you have, have you?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and Bucky guessed that if there was enough light, he’d be able to see that his face was bright red. “Well, I mean, not until we’ve finished the house, of course.”

“Uh huh. That’s what I thought.” They walked up the porch steps and Sam turned to Bucky while Steve unlocked the door. “We’ve been renovating the place ourselves. We got a great deal on it, but we kinda thought we’d be better at home repair than we are.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, I’m pretty good at fixing things. I worked as a super in my apartment building for a while before I left the city. If I end up having to stick around for a bit maybe I could do a little work, pay you back a bit.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Bucky. That’s not necessary, but I’m not gonna turn down help from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Steve led them through the house and into the kitchen, turning on lights as they went. The kitchen looked functional, but unfinished. Some of the cabinets were missing doors and the backsplash was only partly tiled. Bucky could see the tiles and what he assumed were mortar and grout stacked in one of the corners.

“Obviously we haven’t quite found the time to finish the kitchen,” Sam said, pulling a few glasses down from one of the open cabinets and filling them with water. “But the guest room’s all set, like I said, and should be pretty comfortable.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Bucky accepted one of the glasses from Sam. “Beats sleeping in the back seat of my car, at least.”

Steve laughed. “I think it’ll definitely be more comfortable than that.” He turned to Sam. “I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow, so I’m gonna go ahead and turn in. You good to get Bucky settled in?”

Sam leaned up to give him a kiss. “Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Alright.” Steve gave him another kiss and turned down the hallway to what Bucky figured must be the master suite.

Sam finished his water and set the glass in the sink, and Bucky followed suit. “You must be beat. Follow me and I’ll show you where everything is.”

Sam led him down the opposite hallway and into a guest room that might have been bigger than Bucky’s whole apartment back in Brooklyn. There was a queen sized bed at one end of the room, an antique-looking dresser nearby, and a couple of mismatched night stands. At the other end, near the door, there was a loveseat, chair, and coffee table facing a TV on an entertainment center. Bucky let out a low whistle.

“Yeah, military pensions go a lot further out here than back in New York.”

“Looks like it.”

“Plus I wasn’t about to make my mom stay in some half-finished glorified hotel room when she came to visit. This was actually two rooms when we moved in, but we were able to knock down a wall and open up the space.” Sam gestured towards the other door in the room. “Bathroom’s through there, and we had a professional come out to fix those up. Even Steve isn’t stubborn enough to attempt to do plumbing on his own.”

“Smart man. My dad always said to leave the plumbing and electrical to the professionals.”

“Well, there should be plenty of towels in there and a toothbrush in the drawer, but if you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Will do. And thanks again, Sam. You really didn’t have to do this.”

Another gap-toothed grin, as if smiling as bright as the sun was easy and natural. “I know, but we’re happy to. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sam left and Bucky just stood there for a moment, shaking his head. These two were something else. He couldn’t remember the last time he had met someone so immediately open and trusting, and yet here were two of them, willing to let a stranger into their house without even batting an eye.

He took a quick shower and got into bed, the tension he’d been carrying all day beginning to slip away. He was sound asleep within minutes.

 

On the other side of the house, Sam had almost drifted off when Steve spoke.

“What do you think happened to his arm?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t notice? He kept his left arm under the counter the whole time.”

Sam thought back, and realized Steve was right. Bucky had even managed to somehow eat that giant reuben with just the one hand.

“I don’t know. Not really our business, though.”

“No, I guess not.”

Steve’s breathing evened out, and Sam slipped off to sleep just a few minutes behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee, which was just about the only thing that could make mornings bearable in his book. He rummaged through his backpack to find the cleanest smelling clothes he had and got dressed. He wanted to tie his hair back, but his left shoulder was too stiff from sleep and after a few attempts with just his right hand, he gave up and resigned himself to letting it hang.

“Good morning!” Sam greeted him cheerfully when he entered the kitchen. He gave Bucky a quick once-over and turned to pour a mug of coffee.

“Looks like you’re the kind of guy who needs this before anything else in the morning.” He handed Bucky the mug with a smile.

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky grunted. He cleared his throat, attempting to sound a bit more human. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You more of an eggs guy or a cereal guy? I’d offer pancakes, but you don’t actually want any of my pancakes.”

“Whatever’s easy.” Bucky sipped his coffee. “You run a diner but you can’t make pancakes?”

Sam shook his head and pulled out a box of cereal and a jug of milk, pouring as he talked. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve been given plenty of grief for that. But Steve and Gabe cover the food side of things and I cover the business side. And the front of house stuff, cause I’m the pretty one.”

Bucky laughed and accepted the bowl and spoon from Sam. “Well, I won’t argue with you about that.”

Sam grinned back at him. “Smart choice.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Bucky felt better rested than he had in awhile, and it was nice to just sit and eat with another person for a change. When they finished, he picked up both of their bowls and headed to the sink, ignoring Sam’s protests. 

He set the last dish in the drying rack and turned back to see Sam looking resignedly at the tiles piled up in the corner. Bucky watched as Sam shook his head and sighed.

“If you’re ready, I can take you over to Rhodey’s and we can go get your car,” Sam offered, his face shifting back into the pleasant smile that Bucky was used to.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

The garage wasn’t far from Sam and Steve’s house, and Sam reassured him that the mechanic was a good guy who wouldn’t even think of taking advantage of his bad fortune.

“Rhodey and I go way back. I wouldn’t have survived the Air Force without him. He stayed in a while longer than me, but then some shit went down and I convinced him to move out here. Never thought it would happen — he could be designing jet engines if he wanted to — but he took me up on it and now Henning has the best mechanic east of the Mississippi.”

Sam introduced them and explained the situation, and Rhodey went to pull the tow truck around.

“I’ve gotta get over to the diner, but let me give you my number. Hopefully Rhodey will have you on your way soon, but you let me know if there’s any problem.”

Bucky put Sam’s number in his phone. “Sam, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve — this is — I mean, you’ve really gone above and beyond here.”

Sam put a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it warm and reassuring. “No need to thank me, Bucky. The world can be a really shitty place sometimes, but the way I look at it, if I put some good into it whenever I can, then there’ll be more good when I’m the one who needs it.”

Bucky just shook his head and looked down at his scuffed boots. This guy really was something else. “Well, thank you all the same.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t be a stranger, alright? If you’re ever around again, come by the diner and I’ll have Steve make you some pancakes.”

They both laughed at that, and then Sam was shaking his hand and Bucky was climbing into the tow truck. He was more disappointed than he expected to be watching Sam drive away.

 

“Looks like the rush has finally died down.” Sharon stuck her head in the pass through.

“Sounds good. Here’s that fried egg sandwich and short stack.” Steve handed her the plates and double-checked that he had finished all the orders. He looked out into the front of the house and saw their Friday morning regulars.

Ever since the diner first opened, the group of four men arrived precisely at 7:00 am every Friday to eat breakfast, complain about the Titans or the Grizzlies or the Tigers (or all three), and gossip like church ladies. Joe, Don, and Randall were retired now, but Nick still served as the police chief. They stayed for hours, and Steve would often sit with them and drink a cup of coffee if he had the time.

When Steve came over to the table, Don was gesticulating wildly and Steve expected to see steam come out of his ears any second.

“What are we all riled up about today, gentleman?”

“Don here doesn’t think that new coach over at Memphis has any idea what he’s doing.” Nick’s face was serious, but Steve was pretty sure he was laughing at the rest of them underneath.

“He doesn’t! Trying to install a new offensive system in his first year on the job? All that’s gonna do is ruin the success they had with Fuente.”

“They can’t just keep using the old system,” Randall chimed in. “Lynch went off to the NFL and the new kid ain’t even close. Like I keep telling you, they gotta build the offense around Craft and the rest of the running backs.”

The argument circled around a few more times while Steve finished his coffee. He was ready to jump up when the bell over the door rang, but relaxed when it was just Sam.

Sam greeted Sharon, then came over and dropped a kiss on the top of Steve’s head. They’d been a bit hesitant to do things like that when they first moved to Henning, but most people, and especially their regulars, seemed to have gotten used to the idea. In fact, the Friday morning group was more likely to give Sam grief about Steve being white than about him being a man.

“How’d the morning rush go?”

“Pretty good. You get Bucky all taken care of?”

“Yep. Just dropped him off at Rhodey’s a few minutes ago.”

“Who’s Bucky?” Joe asked.

“Just someone passing through. He came in the diner last night after his car broke down somewhere between here and Ripley.”

“And let me guess,” Nick said. “You two fed him and put him up for the night, no questions asked.”

Steve and Sam smiled at each other and shrugged. “What else were we gonna do? Make him walk all the way back and sleep in his car?”

Nick just shook his head. “Y’all are too nice for your own good.”

“Nothing wrong with trusting people, Nick.”

Nick scoffed. “If you say so. I’m just not looking forward to the day I have to investigate you two getting murdered in your sleep.”

Steve stood and grabbed his apron off the back of the chair. “Well, on that optimistic note, I’m gonna go start prepping for lunch.”

“I’ll come help,” Sam offered, then turned back to the table. “Now you four play nice. And make sure you leave Sharon a good tip.”

“Hey!” Joe protested. “We always leave a good tip.”

“And that’s why I love you, Joe.” Sharon winked at him.

“Don’t tease me, darlin’. My heart can’t take it.”

Steve stood in the kitchen, took a deep breath, and smiled. He could still hear the laughter from the front, and he closed his eyes and sighed when Sam wrapped him in his arms and gave him a real kiss hello. He savored the moment, then pulled away to get back to work.

 

Sam was just finishing up with some invoices and about to check if Steve and Gabe needed anything else when his phone rang. He normally ignored unknown numbers, but this one had a New York area code, so he pressed accept instead of waiting to see if they left a voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Sam? This is Bucky.”

“Hey Bucky. Did Rhodey get you all squared away?” He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face.

“Um, well, that’s actually why I’m calling. Turns out apparently I’ve been lucky to get this far without the whole thing blowing up on me. Rhodey can fix it, but he’s gotta order a couple of parts and with the weekend and everything, it’s gonna be a few days.”

“That sucks, man. I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I hate to ask, but do you think I could get a ride over to the hotel in Ripley? I’ll just hang out there until Rhodey’s finished.”

“Yeah, of course. Steve’s shift is just about over and then we were headed that direction anyway.”

“Thanks, man.” Sam didn’t think he was imagining the relief in Bucky’s voice. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It’s no problem at all. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Sam hung up and finished putting the desk in order. He grabbed the bank deposit and went to find Steve.

Steve, Gabe, and Sharon were all doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down their faces, when Sam entered the kitchen.

“Am I the only one doing any work around here?”

“Pretty much,” Gabe answered. “You come to get your man out of my kitchen so I can get to work?”

“Your kitchen!?” Steve sputtered. “Since when is this your kitchen?”

“Since everyone in town agrees my food beats the pants off of yours.”

“What? No way! Sam, back me up here.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know, baby. You’ve turned breakfast into an art, but you definitely can’t beat Gabe’s chicken.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gabe reached out for a fistbump and Sam was all too happy to oblige.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “Betrayed in my very own diner.”

Sam moved closer and put his arms around Steve. “Don’t worry. I may prefer Gabe’s chicken, but I still love you the most.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” Steve tried to keep the pout on his face, but Sam could see it beginning to crack.

“You like when I’m funny.” Steve finally relented and let Sam pull him in for a kiss.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get out of here before Gabe finds more ways to insult me and I have to fire him.” Steve put an arm around Sam’s shoulder and moved towards the door.

“You can’t fire me! You’d lose all your customers!”

Sam laughed as Steve just kept walking, giving Gabe the middle finger as they left.

“Bucky called a little bit ago,” Sam said as Steve unlocked the door of the truck. “His car’s gonna take a couple of days and he wanted to know if we could give him a ride over to the hotel in Ripley. I told him sure.”

“Sounds good.” Steve started the truck and glanced over at Sam. “What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You’ve got that face you make when you think something’s not right.”

Sam sighed. “I just hate the idea of him stuck in a hotel room for days with no transportation and nothing to do.”

“You want to invite him to stay until his car’s fixed, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Sam looked over to gauge Steve’s response. “Is that alright?”

“Of course it is.” Steve reached over and took his hand, giving it a quick kiss. “You’re a good man, Sam Wilson. How’d I get so lucky?”

Sam squeezed his hand. “I could ask myself the same question.”

Bucky was waiting outside the garage when they arrived. Sam slid over so that he could squeeze himself into the cab of the truck. He got settled, keeping his left arm tight against his body.

“Thanks again for giving me a ride. I don’t want you to go out of your way or anything.”

“Not out of our way at all,” Steve reassured him. “We always go into Ripley on Friday nights.”

“Oh yeah? Exciting nightlife there, or something?”

Sam and Steve both chuckled. “Or something.”

“Look, Bucky,” Sam started before he could ask. “I understand if you don’t want to, but you’re welcome to stay with us until Rhodey finishes with your car.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve put you guys out too much already. I’ll be fine at the hotel, really.”

“I’m sure you would be, but I’d feel awful knowing you were stuck there by yourself without a way to get around. So really, you’d be doing me a favor if you stayed.”

“Nice try.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Sam waited him out as he fiddled with hem of his sleeve, hoping that the appeal of a nice bed and some company would win out over Bucky’s obvious discomfort with accepting their help. “You guys really won’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Steve said.

“Alright then.” Bucky wagged a finger at Sam before he could say anything. “But you have to at least let me help you out around the house a bit. Maybe get some work done in your kitchen.”

“I’m not gonna fight you on that. Deal?” Sam offered his hand, and Bucky shook it.

“Deal.”

Bucky leaned back in the seat and it looked to Sam like some of the tension he held in his shoulders had lessened. They drove for a while, Steve humming tunelessly along with the radio.

“So what exactly is it that you do in Ripley, Tennessee on Friday nights?”

“Well,” Steve explained, “we make the week’s bank deposit and then head over to the stadium for the Ripley High School football game.”

“And since you’re already in the truck, I guess you’re coming with us this week,” Sam teased.

Bucky looked bewildered, but then he just shrugged his shoulders and went back to looking out the window. “Well, alright then. Let’s go watch some football.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, I make no guarantees that updates will continue at this rate, but I also completely lack the self-control to not post chapters as soon as I finish them :)

It turned out that the local high school football game really was the social event of the week. He’d thought that was the kind of thing that only happened in movies, but here he was, sitting in the bleachers with most of the population of not only Ripley and Henning, but also three other nearby towns. And it wasn’t just the jocks and preps filling the stands, either. There were clumps of nerds and hipsters, and even a group of what he guessed passed for punks in small town Tennessee hanging out under the bleachers.

And Steve and Sam knew _everyone._ They couldn’t move more than a few feet before someone was shaking their hands, grabbing their shoulders, pulling them in for a hug. They greeted each person with smiles and small talk, introducing Bucky as if he was an old friend. It was surreal.

They finally managed to get settled in the stands, arms full of hot dogs and nachos and sodas. Even after the game started, people were wandering up and down the steps, stopping to say hi to friends and exchange the latest gossip. So many people stopped by their row that Bucky had polished off two hot dogs before Sam had even made it halfway through his nachos.

Once things had calmed down and the first quarter had ended, Bucky leaned over. 

“Okay, I gotta ask. How the hell did you two city boys end up here? I feel like I wandered into a Friday Night Lights episode or something.”

Sam laughed. “You know, you’re not that far off, actually. Really, we just both wanted a change. We’d been out of the service for a while and both kinda felt that New York didn’t quite fit anymore, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.” Bucky hadn’t exactly been driving across the country because he’d felt so comfortable and at peace in the city. “So why Henning?”

“Honestly? We picked off a list of majority black towns on Wikipedia.” Sam smirked at Steve, who groaned and put his head in his hands.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. Steve didn’t care where we went, as long as it was a quiet small town. I wanted to be relatively close to family and no more than an hour from an actual city. I was a bit hesitant about a small town in the South because, well.” Sam gestured at himself, and Bucky nodded in understanding. “But Steve wanted me to feel comfortable, so he went and found the list. He was so excited about it. He really thought that just living in a majority black town would mean I could avoid racism. Cause, you know, I never had to deal with any of that in New York or anything.”

Steve groaned again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a clueless white boy.” 

Sam leaned over to kiss the blush on Steve’s cheek. “But you’re a very sweet clueless white boy, so it’s all good.”

They gazed softly at each other for a moment, apparently forgetting that Bucky was there with them, before Sam continued.

“But anyway, we went through the list and found Henning.”

“So is your family in Memphis?”

“Nah, Little Rock and New Orleans. Which is actually better, in my opinion. Close enough to visit, too far to just drop in.”

Bucky nodded as if he understood, although being even that close to his family would have felt suffocating. “Well, it’s not the most conventional way of choosing where to settle down, but it looks like it’s working out for you guys pretty well.”

“It is,” Sam said, reaching over to take Steve’s hand. “The town’s been really good for us.”

Steve leaned over to look at Bucky. “Were you headed anywhere specific before you got stuck here?”

Bucky turned his attention to the field, avoiding his gaze. “Not really. I’ve always been more of the restless wanderer type. I can’t really imagine myself settling down in one place for too long.”

Sam nodded. “I can see the appeal of that.” 

“Really?” Steve asked, sounding surprised.

“Sure. I love it here, but the idea of just living day to day, taking whatever adventure comes along? It’s a fun thing to think about.”

“Huh.” Steve didn’t say anything else in response, and they lapsed into silence. Bucky shifted in his seat, then stood up.

“I’m gonna go grab some more nachos. You guys want anything?”

After the game, a teenage boy carrying a tripod and a camera bag ran up to them.

“Sam, Steve, can I get a ride home? My dad had to work tonight.”

“Sure, but we’ve got a friend with us, so you’ll have to ride in the back.”

“Steve…” Sam sounded disapproving, but Steve just waved him off.

“He’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles and it’s not like I’m gonna drive 90 miles an hour or anything.”

“It’s really no problem.” The kid shrugged, hiking the camera bag up higher onto his shoulder. “I ride in the back of my dad’s truck all the time. Plus I’ve got all this stuff and if I’m holding onto it, it’s less likely anything will happen to it.”

Sam just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Alright, fine. By the way, Miles, this is Bucky. He’s staying with us for a few days.” He turned to Bucky. “Miles works at the diner a few nights a week, when he’s not taking amazing photos or working on the cure for cancer.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “I think I’d need slightly more advanced classes than what’s available at Ripley to be working on that.”

Steve settled a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get there. We know you’re gonna do great things.”

Miles ducked his head, then extended a hand to Bucky. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Sam herded them towards the exit. “Alright, let’s get going. Steve and I are opening tomorrow morning and I’d like to at least get some sleep.”

They made their way through the parking lot, Steve and Sam still waving and calling out greetings to people every few steps. When they got to the truck, Bucky jumped into the bed with Miles, citing the nice weather and the utter lack of desire to squeeze back into the cab.

They were a few minutes down the road when Bucky looked over to see Miles studying him.

“I got something on my face?”

“No.” Miles’s gaze was steady. “Don’t fuck them over, okay?”

“Huh?” He wasn’t expecting that.

“Just, don’t steal a bunch of their stuff or try and hurt them or anything. I mean, I’m pretty sure they could take you, but they shouldn’t have to.”

“I wasn’t planning on making them.”

Miles nodded. “Good. They’re good guys. People around here care about them a lot, even if they’re kinda closed off.”

“Sam and Steve, closed off?” Bucky laughed. “Those two spent all night talking to pretty much everyone in town.”

But Miles wasn’t laughing. “I’m serious. Sure, they’re nice to everyone and they’d drop whatever they’re doing to help a little old lady cross the street, but none of us really know anything about them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They never talk about New York or Steve’s family, and they for sure never talk about their time in the military. They showed up in Henning and immediately became part of the town, but it’s like anything before that never existed.”

“Huh.” Bucky cocked his head. “You’re pretty perceptive for a high school kid.”

“Gee, thanks,” Miles said, dripping sarcasm and rolling his eyes again. “I’ll be sure to add that to my college applications.”

Bucky punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Smartass.”

He leaned his head back and looked up into the darkness. He’d been on the road and away from cities for awhile, but he was still amazed by how much more of the night sky he could see out here. Even so, he’d swear that these stars were the brightest ones he’d seen.

 

The song on the radio ended and a commercial started playing, so Steve reached over and turned down the volume. He kept his eyes deliberately on the road.

“Do you really think it would be fun to travel around the country like Bucky’s doing?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m sure it’d lose some of its charm after a while, but it’s still a cool idea. Didn’t you ever read Kerouac and imagine what it would be like?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really liked _On the Road_. All the characters seemed so aimless and pretentious.”

“Well, the aimlessness was kind of the point. The whole thing was about the search for meaning.”

“But why go out searching for meaning? Why not just do something meaningful where you are?”

“I guess for some people that just doesn’t feel like enough. You know, that whole grass is greener thing. Plus, it’s an adventure.”

“And you want that. The adventure.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t seem to notice.

“Sure. You know me; I’m an adrenaline junkie. Of course I like the idea of doing something new, the uncertainty of it all. That feeling in your gut where you’re not sure if what you’re about to do is brilliant or the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I do.” Steve’s voice was quiet. He did know. He remembered that feeling, the leaping in his chest, the joy of jumping into something with reckless abandon. He also remembered it souring, twisting into fear and nausea and the stark awareness that some things could never be taken back, could never be undone.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve got the diner and the house and everything, so I’ll just get my fix on the rides when the fair comes to town. Or when you stick your cold feet on my legs in the middle of the night.” He looked over and Sam was grinning at him, that teasing sparkle in his eyes that always kept Steve on his toes.

He smiled back, hoping it looked more honest than it felt. “Glad I can oblige.”

Sam chuckled softly, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, dozing the rest of the way. Miles thanked them when they dropped him off, and Steve turned the truck towards home. Sam yawned as he opened the door and after Bucky reassured them that he had everything he needed, they all went to bed.

Steve had only been asleep for a couple of hours when he woke up gasping, shirt sticking to his back with sweat, heart pounding. He got up and went to bathroom, making sure to close the door before turning on the light so as not to disturb Sam. He splashed water on his face and studied himself in the mirror.

He’s fine. He’s safe. He’s in his house with Sam, who’s also safe. No one’s in harm’s way, not here in their town. He made himself take sips of water and breathe deeply until his heart rate settled.

When he climbed back into bed, Sam reached for him. “Everything okay, baby?”

He linked their fingers together, kissing Sam’s knuckles. “Everything’s fine. Just needed a drink of water. Go back to sleep.”

Sam looked at him for a moment, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows, then shifted closer and closed his eyes. Steve lay awake the rest of the night, alternately staring at Sam’s face and the ceiling above them.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam didn’t normally work the Saturday morning shift, but he was actually glad to be waking up at the same time as Steve for once. He was hoping that Steve would let him provide some comfort after his nightmare, instead of pretending it didn’t happen like usual. He woke when Steve got up to shower and went to the kitchen to get coffee going and start breakfast.

He was scraping the scrambled eggs onto their plates when Steve came in, hair still damp and smelling sweetly of soap and shampoo. His arms circled Sam’s waist and he kissed the back of his neck.

“You making me breakfast for a change?”

“Wanted to do something nice for you.” Sam turned and put his hands on Steve’s waist. He searched Steve’s face, looking for any hint of whatever had upset him the night before, but Steve had packed it away behind his usual smile. Even after all these years, Sam still couldn’t see through the mask unless Steve allowed him to.

Steve smiled, apparently unaffected. “That’s sweet. Thanks.” He kissed Sam, then poured himself a cup of coffee.

Sam grabbed the plates off the counter and took them over to the table. “Will you bring some silverware?”

“Sure.”

They sat at the table and ate in what should have been a comfortable silence, Sam gazing out the window and Steve scrolling through something on his phone, but Sam still felt like things were slightly off, as if everything had been moved half an inch out of place. It was frustrating. He knew Steve was hurting and he wanted to help, wanted to be source of strength and comfort, but there were only so many times he could throw himself into a brick wall.

He sighed internally and ate his eggs and drank his coffee, then went to take his own shower.

The shift at the diner was uneventful. The familiar rhythms of the early birds followed by people nursing hangovers followed by families stopping in for lunch were comforting. He greeted the rare new faces and poured coffee and chatted with the regulars, all with a smile on his face. He’d had years of practice faking that smile and by the time he was a few hours in, it didn’t even feel that false anymore. Just went to show that what his grandma had always said was true — if you chose to act happy, eventually you’d feel happy.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to go by the time Misty came in for her shift, though. It had been an early morning after a late night, and he was looking forward to going back to the house, putting some college football on, and falling asleep on the couch.

He made his way back to the kitchen to check in with Steve. “You ready to head out?”

Steve untied his apron and tossed it into the bin they kept in the corner. It looked like it was almost time to take it home and wash the contents. “Just about, but I’m headed over to St. Mark’s for the afternoon, remember? I promised Nick I’d help him out with that big donation he got for the food pantry.”

“I forgot about that. You want me to come with?” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off the headache he could feel creeping up. 

“Nah, you go on home.” Steve rubbed a hand up and down Sam’s arm. “You look tired.”

“I got just as much sleep as you did last night. Maybe more, since you were up in the middle of the night.”

There was a flicker of something in Steve’s eyes, but it disappeared before Sam could read it and was replaced by a mischievous smile. “Well, I’m younger than you, old man.”

Sam crossed his arms. “Uh huh. Says the man whose idea of fun is Tuesday night bingo in the church basement.”

“Hey now, bingo night can get pretty wild. Joe and Don get _very_ passionate. I’ve had to referee quite a few fights over alleged cheating.”

“That’s my Steve, always making sure things are right and just.” Sam laughed and pulled Steve in for a quick kiss. “Alright then. You want me to drop you off at the church?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll walk. It’s nice out today. And I’ll get Nick to give me a ride home so that you don’t have to come back out.”

“Sounds good. See you this evening.” Steve gave him one more kiss, and then Sam headed home, looking forward to the date with his couch.

 

Sam let himself into the house and kicked his shoes off. He went to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge, but stopped short in the doorway.

There was a pile of outlet covers on the table and a bucket of adhesive on the counter. Bucky was leaning over the counter, carefully placing a tile on the wall. He had his hair pulled back and was wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and a pair of jeans that Sam wasn’t above admitting were very distracting. 

Sam cleared his throat, and Bucky spun around, startled. He had a trowel in his right hand and his left arm hung awkwardly by his side. Sam noticed the intense scarring, then fixed his eyes on Bucky’s face. Bucky shifted his weight, angling his left side away and doing his best to subtly shield his arm from Sam’s gaze.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hey, man.” Sam went over to the fridge and opened it, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Looks like you’ve had a productive day.”

“Yeah, I guess. I, uh, I hope you don’t mind. I’m just about finished. I mean, everything was stacked in the corner there and the pattern looked pretty simple so I figured I might as well, uh…” Bucky trailed off, waving the trowel in the general direction of the backsplash.

“I definitely don’t mind. Thank you — you’re doing me a huge favor.” Sam stood up straight, beer in hand. “Those tiles have been sitting there for weeks. Steve kept insisting he was going to finish, but he got busy and it’s not the kind of job I could just finish for him.”

Bucky’s forehead wrinkled. “Why not?”

“I got a bit of a tremor in my hands — a souvenir from Afghanistan. It comes and goes, but it means I try to avoid the more detailed stuff.” He grabbed the bottle opener from one of the drawers and pried the cap off his beer. “I’m gonna watch some football and probably fall asleep if you want to join me.”

Bucky looked confused, uncertain. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ve got a little bit more here, and I need to clean up, but that sounds good.”

“Cool.” Sam left Bucky in the kitchen and flopped onto the couch in the living room. He flipped through the channels until he found the Tigers game. He had finished his beer and was starting to doze off when Bucky came in, back in his long sleeves, wet hair hanging down to his shoulders.

He waved an arm towards the other end of the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Or you can take the chair if you prefer, but the couch has a better angle for the TV.”

“Thanks.” Bucky settled into the corner of the couch. Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Bucky tugged at the hem of his sleeve, pulling it down so that it covered most of his hand.

He was curious, but he wasn’t about to ask. Sam knew better than to pry into the history of an injury like that, especially with someone who was still as skittish as Bucky seemed to be. Hell, he’d been out for years and he still never talked about his own history with anyone except Steve, and even those occasions were few and far between. They knew each other’s stories; there was no reason to drag those old memories into the light.

He yawned and realized that Bucky was the only person in Henning besides Steve who even knew about his tremor. It had never caused any problems at the diner that couldn’t be excused away as mere clumsiness, and he had never felt like it was anyone’s business. He was still trying to figure out exactly why he had told Bucky when sleep took him over.

 

Bucky tried not to be obvious as he watched Sam’s eyes flutter shut, but his attention was definitely more focused on the man next to him than it was on the game. He still didn’t know what to make of Sam.

Miles had said that he and Steve were closed off; nice, but private. And yet Sam had mentioned the lasting effect of his time in Afghanistan as if it was nothing, as if it was something he talked about all the time.

And then there was the fact that Sam had invited him to stay in the first place. People who were concerned with their privacy didn’t invite strangers to stay in their house. _People_ didn’t invite strangers to stay in their house. He was grateful, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was missing something. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this amount of kindness, and he wasn’t sure what they expected of him in return.

Nothing, apparently, but that couldn’t be right. Nobody did something for nothing. That just wasn’t how the world worked.

Sam shifted in his sleep, slipping farther down the couch. He was half turned on his side, but his legs were still dangling off the edge. It looked uncomfortable. He shifted again and made a soft noise, clearly trying to find a more comfortable position in his sleep.

Bucky hesitated, then reached down and pulled Sam’s legs up onto the couch next to him. Curled up on his side, the soles of his feet pressed into the side of Bucky’s thigh. The warm pressure was comforting, grounding.

They shared the couch like that, the game droning on softly in the background. The Tigers game ended, another one started, and Sam slept on. Eventually the sun began to set and Sam shivered slightly as the air in the house cooled. Bucky dragged a blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over him, moving gingerly so as not to wake him up.

They were still in the same place when Steve came home. He poked his head into the living room and smiled softly when he saw Sam. He gave Bucky a small wave and then moved into the kitchen. Bucky stood up carefully and followed him.

Steve had a large pan on the stove and was pulling food out of the fridge. “Were you the one who finished the backsplash?”

“Uh, yeah, that was me. Figured I could make myself useful while you guys were at work.”

“Well, it looks great. Thanks for doing it.”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. And I still need to add the grout once the adhesive all sets.”

Steve turned and smiled at him. “It may not be a big deal, but I bet Sam really appreciated it. He’s been after me about the stack of tile for a while now.”

“He mentioned you’ve been busy.”

Steve’s smile turned rueful. “That’s a kind way of putting it. It’s more that I start too many projects and then say yes to too many things in town and then Sam has to pick up my slack at home.”

“It doesn’t seem like he minds too much.” Bucky wasn’t sure exactly how the conversation had ended up here, but he desperately wanted to change the topic. “What are you making? Anything I can help with?”

“Just a stir-fry. You could cut up that broccoli if you want.” He nodded at a few crowns that he had placed on the counter, then pulled out a cutting board and a knife.

“Sure.” Bucky’s arm was hurting from doing the tile that afternoon, but it shouldn’t be too hard to cut some vegetables. He eased his left arm up onto the counter, wincing briefly at the twinge in his shoulder and elbow. He took the knife in his right hand and started to cut. The broccoli slipped out of his left hand the first time, but he adjusted his weakened grip and the next time the knife sliced through straight and clean.

He avoided thinking about that too much and focused instead on the comfort of the repetitive motions. Steve stayed quiet next to him, occasionally humming a snippet of some song, but mostly silent. It wasn’t as comfortable as the silence of the afternoon had been, but it was still better than anything he’d experienced before he ended up in Henning.

Bucky finished chopping and then watched Steve mix everything together, the oil in the pan sizzling and popping. The smell of food eventually woke Sam, who wandered into the kitchen bleary-eyed and gave Steve a quick squeeze and kiss on the cheek. Together Sam and Bucky set the table, and then they all settled in for dinner.

The food was delicious, and Bucky made a note to get the recipe for Steve’s teriyaki sauce before he moved on. Sam shared funny stories from the diner while they ate, cracking them all up with his impressions of various customers.

“Do you have to open again tomorrow, Steve?” Bucky asked as Sam cleared the dishes off the table, waving off Bucky’s offer to help.

Steve leaned back in his chair. “Nope. Gabe does it on Sundays so that I can go to mass.”

“Henning has a Catholic church?” Bucky was surprised.

Steve laughed. “Not at all. Three different Baptist churches, but I’ve gotta drive all the way into Memphis. Thankfully Sharon’s a Catholic transplant too, so we keep each other company.”

“Sharon’s one of the waitresses, right? The blonde one?”

“Yep, that’s her.”

Bucky ran his thumbnail against the edge of the table. “Sam doesn’t go with you?” As soon as he asked, he realized it probably wasn’t any of his business. He was worried he might have hit another awkward topic, but Steve’s face didn’t show any discomfort.

“Nah, it’s not really his thing. He’ll go to St. Mark’s every once in a while, especially if his mom’s in town, but he usually uses Sundays to do things around the house.”

The conversation petered out there, leaving Bucky unsure of what to say or do. Finally, Steve stood up and stretched. “Well, I was up early this morning and I didn’t get an afternoon nap unlike some people,” he said, raising his voice to be heard in the kitchen, “so I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, Steve.”

Soft voices drifted out from the kitchen, followed by the deep rumble of a laugh. He heard Steve’s steps move down the hallway and then went to see if Sam needed any help with the dishes.

Sam hung the dishcloth over the handle of the stove and turned towards him. “I know it’s early, but I’m gonna go join Steve.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and they both laughed. “Sorry for falling asleep on you this afternoon. I promise I’m usually much better company.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was nice. Peaceful.”

Sam smiled at him. “Well, good. Feel free to stay up, help yourself to whatever. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.” Sam left, leaving Bucky standing awkwardly in the kitchen. It felt too early for him to go to bed, but he didn’t know what else to do. He turned off the light and padded down the hall to his bedroom, figuring he could watch some TV until he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have had somebody else read this over, but I didn't, so let me know if you see any glaring mistakes :)

Bucky spent most of Sunday grouting the tile and hanging the remaining cabinet doors while Sam worked outside in the yard. He hoped that Rhodey would have good news about his car the next day and wanted to get as much work done as he could to thank Sam and Steve for their generosity.

By the end of the day his arms were exhausted; the left from being used so much more than usual and the right from compensating for the weakness of the left. He stood under the hot spray of the shower kneading the misshapen muscles in his upper arm, trying to ignore the odd sensations when he hit the dead spots. His fingers were tingling and he massaged each one the way the occupational therapist had shown him, hoping he was doing it right. He couldn’t help but worry that he was causing more damage.

He joined Sam and Steve in the living room once he was finished. They had ordered pizza — Bucky had been surprised that was an option, but Sam just rolled his eyes at him — and were eating on the couch watching the Mets game.

“How are you even getting the Mets game out here?” Bucky asked around a mouth full of pizza.

Sam shrugged. “We splurged on the MLB cable package. Steve here gets grumpy if he doesn’t get to watch an obscene amount of baseball.”

Steve punched him in the arm. “Hey! Like you’re not just as bad during basketball season.”

“At least things _happen_ during basketball games. Watching baseball is like watching paint dry.”

“I will not allow such blasphemy in my house!” 

“Your house?”

Bucky smiled as he watched the two of them bicker on the couch. This was obviously a familiar conversation, full of well-worn arguments and finely tuned insults, a single word or look able to generate a seemingly disproportionate response, but one that he was certain had plenty of history behind it. 

After a brief wrestling match, they settled down and went back to their pizza. Bucky suspected that if he hadn’t been there, the wrestling would have turned into something else entirely. He felt a bit voyeuristic, an intruder in the daily rhythms of their lives. At least he’d be out of their hair before too much longer.

Unfortunately, when Rhodey called late Monday morning, it wasn’t exactly with good news.

“Hey, Bucky. I’ve got your car as fixed as I can, but I think you know what I’m gonna say.”

Bucky sighed and his head dropped into his hand. “Go ahead and tell me.”

“It’s not good, man. I got it running again, but I don’t think that’s gonna last. If you were just gonna be driving around town, that would be one thing, but if you’re planning to continue driving cross-country, you’re just asking for trouble.”

“Shit.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it coming, but he’d been hoping it would hold off for a bit longer. “You know anyone looking to unload a car for cheap?”

“Not one that would be any better than what you’ve got, sorry.”

“That’s alright. Not your fault. I’ll get Sam to bring me over and pick it up in a little bit.”

There was a pause before Rhodey spoke up again. “Look, you obviously know your way around an engine from the work you’ve already done on it. I used to have another guy helping me out in the shop, but he moved on to better things a few months ago. What if you stuck around, worked for me until you could save up enough for a decent car?”

Bucky almost dropped his phone. “You’re offering me a job? You don’t even know me.”

“I know you kept that hunk of junk running longer than it had any right to. Plus Sam likes you, and he’s an excellent judge of character.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Well, I don’t know about that. He doesn’t actually know me that well.”

“He knows you well enough to let you stay in his house. That’s good enough for me.” Bucky could hear the smile in Rhodey’s voice.

“I can’t stay here long-term, though. I’ve already inconvenienced them enough. And I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.”

“Look, the offer isn’t going to expire. Take some time, think about it. Talk to Sam and Steve, see if y’all can’t come up with a solution. Those two can get pretty creative. Steve in particular is craftier than he looks.”

“Steve? Crafty?”

“Absolutely. Don’t let the puppy dog thing fool you. Give that man five minutes and he could talk a 70-year-old church lady into giving up her pew. We’re just lucky that he uses his power for good.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“You do that. And let me know what you decide.”

“Thanks, Rhodey. I’ll be by to pick up my car later either way.”

“See you then.”

Bucky considered his options while he worked on removing the hideous 70s wallpaper from the rest of the kitchen. He fell into a comfortable rhythm and tried to examine all the different angles.

He could just keep traveling and hope for the best. Worst case scenario, he gets stranded in some other town and has to figure things out from there, which was basically what he expected when he got stranded in Henning. Alternatively, the car holds out until he gets to wherever he’s going and he can buy a new car once he’s settled. 

Except he didn’t know where he was going. He had left New York with vague ideas of heading out to the west coast, picking up odd jobs along the way if he needed to, but nothing definite. And if he was going to save money for a new car, it would probably be easier to do here, where he wouldn’t have to spend his entire paycheck just to cover rent.

But where would he stay? He couldn’t keep living in the guest room; it felt like too much of an imposition. Plus, they were going to need the room for actual guests again at some point. From what he’d gathered, Sam’s mom was a pretty frequent visitor.

He also just needed the space. He hadn’t had any night terrors or panic attacks in a while, but he knew they weren’t gone. They especially weren’t going to stay gone if he remained in one place and had the time to think about more than just getting to the next town and making sure his funds held out.

Maybe somebody in town had a room for rent and wouldn’t mind a messed-up veteran potentially destroying the place. Or maybe he could find somewhere out of the way to park his car and just live out of that. Hell, maybe somebody had an old tent they would give him to set up out in a field somewhere. He’d survived in worse conditions.

As he wrestled the last few strips of paper off the wall, he realized that a not insignificant part of him wanted to stay in Henning, even if he did end up living in a tent. There was something about the town that seemed to soothe the restlessness that had lived under his skin since getting back to the States. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

 

Steve was in the middle of the lunch rush when Sam popped into the kitchen to fill him in on the situation and let him know he was going to go with Bucky to pick up his car.

“That’s a bummer. I’m sure we can help him figure something out. You’re not leaving Sharon and Misty out to dry if you leave though, are you?”

“Nah, they said it was fine. They also implied that it would actually be easier if I wasn’t here to get in their way. I’m not sure I’m okay with our employees treating me this way.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Well, you know I love you, but if I have to choose between you and them here at the diner…” 

“Oh that’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is.” Steve smiled as he gave the expected response.

“Sounds like someone wants to sleep on the couch tonight.” Despite the threat, Sam came over and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe I ended up with such a little shit.”

“Eh, you like it.” He turned away from the stove for a moment to accept a real kiss.

“Yeah, I do.” Sam slapped his ass and headed out of the kitchen. Steve shook his head and laughed.

The rush eventually died down and Sharon came back to the kitchen for a break while Misty covered the last few tables in the front. After laughing with her about Gloria’s weekly rant about her ungrateful son and his uppity wife (her words), he relayed Bucky’s situation.

“So he really just needs a place to stay for a while? Everything else is already worked out?” Sharon asked.

“That’s what it sounds like. Why, you offering? He’s not terrible looking.”

Sharon punched him in the shoulder and rolled her eyes. “No, asshole. Valerie was in here earlier and we got to talking. Some new scheduler stuck her on the night shift out at the hospital, and she’s been worried about Randall being alone. He had that bad fall last year, and she’s concerned it might happen again while she’s not there.”

“What does that have to do with Bucky?”

“Well, she mentioned that she wanted to see if they could get an aide or something to live in the apartment above the garage, but Randall’s too stubborn and won’t admit he could use the help.”

Steve started to follow her train of thought. “But if it was a favor to Bucky—”

“Exactly. If Randall was the one doing something for him instead of the other way around, he’d probably go along with it. And hopefully by the time Bucky’s ready to move on, Valerie will have gotten the hospital to switch her schedule back.”

“Man, that would be perfect. I’ll run it by Bucky tonight, see what he thinks.”

“Glad I could help.” Sharon’s broad smile faded a bit. “I hope he ends up sticking around. He looks...lost. Like he’s not quite sure if he’s got time to stop and catch his breath. I think Henning could be good for him, kinda like it is for you and Sam.”

Steve’s head shot up. “What do you mean, like me and Sam?”

“Oh, you know, you both get that look sometimes too. It’s like every once in a while you stop and realize that you’re happy and safe and that makes you worry that it’s going to be ripped away from you.” She looked up at him and must have seen something in his face, because she smiled and waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, don’t listen to me. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I do hope Bucky stays, though; he seems like a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he is.” Thankfully Misty brought him a new order then and gave him something to do. He could feel Sharon’s eyes on his back for a moment, but he did his best to ignore the sensation. He didn’t like the thought that she seemed to see more of him than he could see of himself.

That night at dinner he told Bucky and Sam about Sharon’s idea.

“Oh wow, that’s so perfect! I bet it would really put Valerie at ease, and we’d get to keep you here a bit longer.” Sam reached over and gripped Bucky’s shoulder, practically beaming at the idea.

Bucky nodded and kept his eyes lowered. “Yeah, that does sound really great. I mean, as long as they don’t mind it being some stranger instead of an aide or something. I don’t know if I’m exactly qualified.”

Sam went back to eating and shook his head. “Nah, you’d be fine. Randall doesn’t really need that much help; it would be more of a precaution. Plus, the guy’s hilarious. You’ll probably end up spending more time hanging out with him than with us.”

Bucky cracked a small smile at that. “I already promised to help you paint the kitchen and redo the carpet on the stairs. I think you’ll still see plenty of me.”

Steve was a bit surprised. “I didn’t realize you guys were gonna take care of that.”

Sam shrugged. “We’ve been talking about doing it, but you’ve been so busy lately. I was showing what we’ve done so far this afternoon, and Bucky has a lot of cool ideas for things we could do, especially upstairs where it’s still mostly a mess.”

Steve took another bite of his dinner, but the food was sitting funnily in his stomach. He wondered if maybe he was coming down with something.

“Well, I don’t think I have a lot planned until the food drive Nick asked me to help with picks up closer to Thanksgiving, so I should be able to help too.”

Sam gave him one of those smiles that made him feel like everything in his life had clicked perfectly into place. “Fantastic! Hell, maybe we’ll get really good at this and someone will give us a reality show. We’re way cuter than those people from Waco.”

Steve laughed and couldn’t help but reach over to grab Sam’s hand and kiss his knuckles. “Well, you definitely are at least.” It made it a little difficult to eat, and it was kind of a weird thing to do, especially with Bucky there, but Steve didn’t let go of Sam’s hand until they had finished their meal and got up to do the dishes.

 

Sam collapsed on the bed panting, skin glistening with sweat in the light from the lamp, while Steve went to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. He came back and cleaned up the mess on Sam’s stomach, leaving behind soft kisses as he went.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly our usual Monday night routine,” he said, running a hand through Steve’s hair. He looked down to see Steve resting his chin on his chest, looking up at him through those clear blue eyes.

“You complaining?”

Sam laughed and tugged at Steve’s hair. “Not at all. Just wasn’t expecting it. Anything in particular set you off so I can do it again sometime?”

Steve shrugged as best he could. “Not really. Just feeling really grateful that I have you in my life.”

Sam smiled down at him softly, watching as Steve’s eyelids started to droop. Things had felt a bit off since Steve’s nightmare the other night, but maybe he’d overreacted. So Steve didn’t want to tell him about the dream; he could understand that. It’s not like he told Steve every time he got anxious about nothing or zoned out and missed a bit of time. It didn’t mean they weren’t still solid.

He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck and kissed the top of his head. “Right back at ya, baby. Right back at ya.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got impatient again and didn't have anyone else read this over, so let me know if you see any glaring mistakes.

Bucky wanted to move out right away, but Sam managed to convince him to at least wait until the weekend.

“We can go over today and check things out, make sure the place is livable,” he said, moving easily around Bucky to get the peanut butter out of the pantry. He leaned against the counter and waited for the toast to finish. “That’ll give us some time to fix it up so that you’re not sleeping on the floor with a bunch of cockroaches or anything.”

Bucky shrugged where he stood at the stove. “I just don’t want to put you and Steve out any more than I already have.”

Sam shook his head. Bucky was almost as stubborn as Steve. “Man, how many times do I have to tell you? You are probably the least disruptive houseguest we’ve ever had besides my mom. I wish my sister was as willing to help with the dishes as you are.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder and gave Sam a half-smile. “Uh huh. I’m sure I haven’t disrupted your life at all, what with you driving me all over the place and going in late to the diner.”

The toast popped up and Sam spread a generous helping of peanut butter on each slice. “I should be thanking you, actually. I’m more of a morning person than you, but I certainly don’t mind an excuse to sleep in past dawn.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Now are you gonna be done with those eggs any time soon?” Sam leaned over to take a peek at the stove.

“Oh, did you think some of these were for you? I was just making my own breakfast.” Bucky slid the scrambled eggs onto a plate and snagged two slices of toast off the plate Sam was holding. “Thanks for the toast, though.”

Sam’s jaw dropped as Bucky brushed past him and sat down at the kitchen table. Bucky just looked up at him and smiled around a mouthful of eggs.

“Problem, Sam?”

“You know what, I changed my mind. You are definitely a disruption and a burden and I need your egg-stealing ass out of my house right now.”

Bucky laughed and waved him over. “Oh, fine then. C’mere and I’ll give you some eggs.”

Sam watched Bucky as they ate, noticing that some of the tension in his shoulders and around his eyes seemed to have lessened. Add that to the teasing, and it appeared that Bucky was finally beginning to settle in. Sam tried not to think too hard about why that made him so happy.

 

On Thursday, Sam took the day off from the diner and drove into Memphis with Bucky. He made the trip every other week to meet up with a couple of college kids he had mentored, and figured that he and Bucky could make a Target run to pick up some things for his new apartment.

Valerie and Randall’s place had turned out to be in pretty good shape, even though it had been empty for quite a few years. With a good cleaning and a few supplies, Bucky would be pretty comfortable.

They wandered around Target, picking up sheets and towels and other necessities. Sam could tell Bucky was carefully adding things up in his head, so he furtively dropped a few things in his own cart that could “accidentally” wind up at Bucky’s place at some point. He wandered over to home decor while Bucky decided which shower curtain he wanted and giggled to himself as he slipped one particular item into the bottom, hiding it from view.

After their shopping trip, Sam took Bucky to Central for some real Memphis BBQ, complete with a lecture about the virtues of dry vs. wet ribs, the appropriate way to order BBQ nachos (on the house chips, with jalapeños), and how a smart man _never_ orders brisket in a Memphis BBQ joint.

“This is land of the pig, my friend. You can order all the brisket you want in Texas, but here it’s gotta be pork.” Bucky threw his head back and laughed at Sam’s vehemence and Sam’s stomach swooped at the sound.

They ate their fill, and then Idris texted that he was out of class and they headed over to campus to pick him up. Joaquin was with him when they got there and Sam introduced them both to Bucky.

Sam had met Idris not long after they moved to Henning. He had heard about an organization that helped refugees who had been resettled in Memphis and decided it would be a good way for him to give back. He had taken Idris’s mother to a doctor’s appointment and she had explained how her son was having trouble in school. He started tutoring Idris after soccer practice every other week, although they sometimes did more talking than tutoring.

Joaquin went to the same high school and also played on the soccer team. He and Idris had become pretty good friends, so he started tagging along. By the time both of them graduated high school and started at the University of Memphis, Sam had become more of a friend than a mentor. He still met with them every other week, but now they usually found a pickup game or went to dinner instead of doing homework.

They took Joaquin’s car since there wasn’t room for all of them in the truck and drove down to Mud Island. It wasn’t their usual spot, but when the boys found out that Bucky had never seen the Mississippi River, they insisted. They walked around for a bit, then ran into some people kicking a ball around.

Idris and Joaquin convinced Bucky to join in so that they would have enough people for a 5 v 5 game. He was pretty terrible, and all three of them had fun heckling him for it for the rest of the day. Sam didn’t realize how late it was until the sun started dipping towards the water.

“Oh wow, we better get going. Bucky and I still have to drive back to Henning.”

“I don’t know why you live in that town, Sam. I still don’t believe you when you say it is not boring.” Idris shook his head at him, just like he did every time Sam’s choice of home came up.

“Quiet is not the same as boring.”

Idris and Joaquin rolled their eyes at each other.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“Come on you two. You can keep giving me shit about it in the car.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Joaquin gave him a broad smile. “We will.”

 

Steve was in the living room with the TV on when they made it back to the house.

“Hey, you’re home.” He smiled at them, but it wasn’t the smile he usually gave Sam. This was the smile he gave Gloria when they ran into her at the market and she started in on her daughter-in-law, all thin-lipped and slightly jagged around the edges.

“Yeah, sorry I’m later than usual. We ended up going down to the river with Joaquin and Idris and lost track of time a bit.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, eventually.”

Bucky cleared his throat and lifted his bags. “Um, I’m gonna go put this stuff in my room. Or well, away. Out of the way.” He left the room and Sam turned back to Steve.

“Everything alright?” Steve was in the armchair, so Sam sat on the end of the couch closest to him, elbows resting on his knees.

“Yeah, of course. You guys have a good day?”

“We did. We got a lot of stuff for Bucky’s new place, and I think the guys liked him. He said he might like to go with me again, if Rhodey’s okay with it. Oh, and I brought back some BBQ sauce from Central.”

Steve nodded. “Good, thanks. We were almost out.”

Sam looked at him, but Steve just kept staring at the TV. He thought about asking again if anything was wrong, but he didn’t want to nag. 

“Bucky’s starting at Rhodey’s on Saturday, so I think I’m gonna take Sunday off to help him get all set up at the new place.”

Steve looked at him then. “You’re gonna take another day off?”

“Yeah? Sharon and Misty handle the front just fine, and there’s nothing I need to do in the office that can’t get done on Monday.”

“Fine.” Steve turned back to the TV. Sam sighed.

“Steve, _what_ is going on? If it’s really a problem, I’ll be there. But you gotta talk to me.”

“No, it’s no problem. Take the day. It’s just that you’ve been taking a lot of days ever since— over the past week or so.” He picked at the arm of the chair with a fingernail. “I’m sorry; I’m just tired. Ignore me.”

Sam got off the couch and slid into Steve’s lap. The chair creaked at their combined weight, but he knew it could handle it. He ran a hand through Steve’s hair and tugged gently, forcing Steve to look at him.

“You been missing me, baby?” He leaned in and kissed the edge of Steve’s jaw. “Have I been neglecting you?”

He could feel the moment Steve gave in and relaxed underneath him. His mouth turned down in an exaggerated pout and he looked up at Sam through his ridiculous eyelashes. “Maybe a little,” he said, his voice small and pathetic.

Sam stroked the back of his head. “I’m so sorry, baby. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Steve’s pout twisted into a filthy smile as he grabbed Sam under his thighs and stood up from the chair. Sam definitely didn’t squeak in surprise, but he did wrap his legs around Steve’s waist and grip his shoulders a bit tighter. God, he loved when Steve did shit like that.

Steve’s voice was deep and rough when he spoke again. “I think I have a few ideas.” Steve carried him back towards the bedroom, and Sam was pretty sure he was going to like those ideas.

 

Bucky shifted the box so that more of the weight was on his right arm, trying to only use his left to keep it balanced. Thankfully, this was the last big box. Bucky wasn’t even sure how he had ended up with multiple boxes — he hadn’t had that much in the back of his car and didn’t think he had bought enough stuff at Target to warrant all this.

He set the box down in the kitchen, where Sam was wiping down the cabinet shelves and counters.

“It’s really amazing how my stuff managed to multiply during the week I was in your house.”

Sam didn’t even blink. “Hmmm. Must be elves.”

“Uh huh. Elves. Sure.” Bucky didn’t bother to argue. He’d started to realize that there was no point when Sam decided to do something nice.

They didn’t talked much as they worked, Bucky making his bed and unpacking his clothes, Sam taking the cleaning supplies and moving on to the bathroom. The music from Sam’s phone filled the small apartment and soon enough everything was clean and in its proper place.

“How about we crack open that six-pack I snuck in the fridge?” Sam’s eyes twinkled; he was obviously pleased with himself.

“Of course you did.” Bucky gestured towards the kitchen. “Lead the way.”

They opened their beers and leaned against the counter side-by-side. Sam pulled a wrapped present out of thin air. “I almost forgot! I got you a housewarming present.”

Bucky shook a finger at him. “You definitely did not forget. I’m onto you. Stop giving me things.” He punctuated each word with a poke to Sam’s shoulder.

Sam just laughed. “This is the last thing, I promise. And it’s nothing big. Just open it.”

Bucky looked at him suspiciously, but took the present. He tore off the wrapping paper and groaned. “Oh my god, you didn’t.”

In his hands he held a painted sign made of something that was clearly pretending to be wood. The script read “Keep Calm and Drink More Wine” and there were little wine glasses all around the edges.

Sam was laughing so hard there were tears in eyes.

“What am I, a disillusioned housewife?” He tried to glare, but he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Aw, come on, Buck. Wine is classy! It’ll make this place homey!” Sam was too busy laughing to notice the way Bucky’s breath hitched at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re an asshole.” He meant to shove Sam, but ended up knocking into his beer bottle instead, spilling it all over Sam’s shirt. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry. Let me grab you a towel.”

Sam set his beer down on the counter and reached for a paper towel. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Bucky stuck a dishtowel under the faucet, then tried his best to get the beer off Sam’s shirt. He only realized that he was basically groping Sam when he laughed and grabbed Bucky’s wrist to stop him.

“Bucky, Bucky, it’s fine. Just tell me you have a clean shirt I can borrow. I’m supposed to drive over to Atoka with Steve tonight to catch a movie and I don’t have time to run home.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me go grab you something.” He dug through his closet for something that wasn’t old and ratty and falling apart. He wasn’t going to send Sam off on his date night in some shitty old t-shirt. He found a dark red henley that he hadn’t worn very often and brought it out to the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway and froze. Sam was standing at the sink rinsing out his shirt. Bucky could see the definition in his arms and shoulders and back as he scrubbed at the beer. His eyes started to drift downward before he caught himself and remembered why Sam needed a clean shirt in the first place.

“Here you go.” Bucky walked over and handed Sam the shirt, making sure to keep his eyes trained on Sam’s face. It didn’t keep him from getting a glimpse of Sam’s chest when he turned around to take the shirt, though. Bucky swallowed, desperately trying not to give himself away.

Sam slipped the shirt on, thankfully covering all that skin and muscle before Bucky could do something stupid.

“Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m also the person who caused the problem in the first place, so I don’t know how much credit you should actually give me.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Nah, really, don’t worry about it.” 

Bucky grabbed one of the plastic bags he had shoved under the sink and handed it to Sam so he could wrap his wet shirt in it.

“See, there you go again. Alright, I better get moving. Enjoy your new place!”

Bucky walked with him over to the door. “I will. And thanks again for all the help.”

Sam smiled at him. “My pleasure.”

He bounced down the stairs and Bucky closed the door behind him, then leaned against it, breathing a heavy sigh.

Fuck.

Sam and Steve had been nothing but kind to him, and here he was ogling Sam in his kitchen. God, he was such an asshole, lusting over someone who was clearly in a committed relationship. He pushed himself off the door and went back to the kitchen to make sure the mess was cleaned up. 

At least he’d managed to not be completely obvious, he thought. He hoped. It was one tiny moment. He wasn’t going to act on it. He just had a little crush because Sam was kind and generous and completely fucking gorgeous and — 

He really need to pull himself together. He’d focus on his work at the garage and avoid the diner for a few days. That would give him a little bit of distance and then this would all blow over.

And if he happened to imagine hard muscles and soft skin and deep brown eyes while he jerked off that night, well, no one would know but him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief mention of PTSD-related night terrors

Steve stood at the stove in the diner, cooking not doing much to distract him from his thoughts.

Sam had been wearing Bucky’s shirt last night.

He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. And Steve trusted Sam. He did. But still. He couldn’t stop thinking about how his boyfriend had gone on a date with him wearing another man’s shirt.

“Um, you know those eggs were supposed to be over-easy, not over-hard, right?” Sharon interrupted and brought him back to the diner.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I’ll have them ready in a moment.”

Sharon eyes narrowed. “We’re gonna talk when we’re not in the middle of a rush.”

Steve sighed and nodded. Sharon wouldn’t let him off the hook, especially not if he was screwing up orders. He refocused on what he was doing, trying to ignore that niggling worry in the back of his mind.

When things slowed down, Sharon brought him a mug of coffee and listened while he explained what had happened the night before.

“It’s really not a big deal. I don’t know why I’m letting it bother me so much.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “It’s because you’re jealous, obviously.”

“What?” Steve spluttered. “I am not jealous!”

“It’s not a big deal. Everyone gets jealous sometimes. Bucky showed up and took some of Sam’s attention that you’re used to having on you. Jealousy is a completely normal reaction.”

Steve took a sip of his coffee while he tried to come up with a response.

Sharon shrugged. “It might be good for you guys, anyway. Shake things up before you get too stuck in a rut.”

“You think Sam and I are stuck in a rut?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to look up from his coffee.

“Well, you have a pretty consistent schedule, you live together, and it’s not like Henning offers a wide variety of entertainment. Plus you’ve been together, what, five years?”

Steve nodded. “Six this December.”

“Well, there you go. You’ve both established your habits and routines, you’re used to each other, settled. A little jealousy sounds like just what you need to spice things up a bit, remind yourselves of why you love each other so much.”

“Maybe,” Steve muttered, not wanting to admit she had a point.

“In fact,” Sharon said with a smirk, “I think maybe it already has. You were _very_ chipper when you came in last Friday.”

Steve’s face and neck flushed, and Sharon laughed at him.

“Oh, shut up. Whatever.” Steve threw a dishtowel at her. “You really shouldn’t know that much about your boss’s sex life. It’s unprofessional.”

“It’s not my fault you’re about as subtle as a neon sign.” The bell over the front door rang. “Well, gotta get back to work!” Sharon slipped out of the kitchen before he could muster a response.

He swallowed the last of his coffee, turning Sharon’s words over in his mind. He’d never really thought of himself as the jealous type. He’d seen other people get really possessive over their boyfriends or girlfriends, and it had always seemed a bit creepy to him. He and Sam had been together a long time, but that didn’t mean Sam was _his_. He wasn’t a possession.

But looking at it now, it seemed obvious. The times when he’d felt most uncomfortable and off-kilter lately had been whenever Sam had spent a significant amount of time with Bucky, or done something with him that he usually did with Steve. He sighed and forced himself to admit that Sharon was right; he was jealous.

He wasn’t going to let it get in the way of things, though. He’d just remind himself that he trusted Sam and that Bucky was just a new friend who needed a bit of help. Sam loved him. He had nothing to worry about and he wasn’t going to get territorial or turn into a caveman or anything. If he kept telling himself that, his feelings would fall in line eventually.

 

Sam hadn’t seen Bucky in over a week and he was a little surprised to discover how much he missed hanging out with him. He wasn’t concerned, though; he figured Bucky was busy with the new job and probably enjoying having a bit of solitude. It must have been hard to go from being by himself in a car all the time to suddenly being with Sam and Steve practically 24/7. Plus if he was trying to save money, he probably wasn’t eating out too much, which would explain why he hadn’t come by the diner. Although Sam likely wouldn’t have charged him anyway, at least not full price.

He ended up staying later than usual at the diner on Tuesday, arguing over the phone with one of their suppliers. He was frustrated and cranky, but his mood brightened when he came out of the office and saw Bucky sitting at the counter with Miles, both of their heads bent over a textbook and a mess of papers.

“Hey Bucky!”

Bucky’s head snapped up, a look of panic flashing across his face before he smiled at Sam.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bucky tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Oh, no, you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Yeah, I’m not usually here this late. What are you guys up to?”

Miles was practically bouncing off his stool. “I was just telling Bucky about the chemical reaction lab we did the other day. It was so cool! Most of the stuff we got to do was kinda boring, things changing color or creating smoke or whatever, but Mrs. Parmenter did a demonstration of some of the cooler stuff. It made a huge mess and there was one that was super loud and scared the shit out of Bobby, which was hilarious.”

Sam laughed at his excitement. “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it was great. And Bucky was telling me about some of his college classes. Did you know he was a science major?”

Sam looked at Bucky, eyebrows raised. “No, I had no idea.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair and shifted on his stool. “I did a couple years at CUNY before I joined the army.”

Sam was curious, but no details appeared to be forthcoming. A car honked out in the parking lot.

“Oh, that’s my dad! Thanks for talking with me, Bucky — it was really cool!” Miles shoved his papers into his backpack and hopped down.

“Anytime, kid.” Bucky smiled at him. “And if you ever need any help, let me know. It’s been awhile, but I probably remember a few things.”

“Thanks!” Miles hurried out and left Sam alone with Bucky.

“So how are you doing, man? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Good, good.” Bucky nodded, fiddling with his coffee mug. “Working a lot.”

“How’s that going? Rhodey treating you okay?”

“Yeah, he’s great.” Bucky was tracing his finger over the pattern of the counter, not making eye contact. Sam tried a different tack. 

“You liking your new place? Randall isn’t giving you too much trouble, is he?”

“Nah, he’s great. He’s got some great stories.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a few of those. If you want a change of pace, you could come over for dinner tonight? It won’t be anything fancy, but Steve and I would love to have you.” Sam tried not to look too eager.

“Thanks, but Valerie’s working tonight, so I should stay home.”

“Oh, okay. Another night this week, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll let you know.” Bucky stood up and finally met Sam’s eyes. “I better go. I’ll see you around, Sam.”

He was out the door before Sam could say anything other than goodbye.

 

Sam was cutting up some vegetables for a stir-fry, Steve leaning on the counter next to him and trying to steal food from the bowl. “I saw Bucky at the diner today. He seemed...I don’t know, off somehow. Like maybe I had offended him or something?”

“Really? He’s seemed like his same old self to me.”

Sam paused. “You’ve seen him this week?”

“Sure.” Steve snagged a snap pea and Sam slapped his hand. “He’s been in the diner a few times.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

Sam went back to chopping the broccoli. “Not really, I guess. It’s just kinda strange that I haven’t seen him at all.”

“Your schedules must be off. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

Sam kept his eyes on the cutting board. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Or maybe he still feels guilty about spilling beer on you and he’s avoiding you.” Steve’s voice sounded teasing, but there was a sharpness to the words. Sam must have let his hurt show on his face because Steve immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Sam; don’t be upset. I’m sure he’s not avoiding you — I can’t imagine why anyone would.”

Sam set down the knife. “No, it’s fine, you were just joking. I don’t know why the idea of it bugs me that much anyway.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and turned Sam towards him. “Because you are sweet and kind and can’t stand the idea that you may have inadvertently upset someone.”

Sam mouth twisted downward as he looked up at Steve. “Uh huh. Or I’m just horribly needy and insecure.”

Steve laughed and kissed the tip of Sam’s nose. “Nope. We’re going with mine.”

That got Sam to smile. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Steve said, then kissed Sam, a real one this time, warm and slow and sweet. When they finally broke apart, Steve leaned his forehead against Sam’s. “Now finish up dinner, I’m hungry.”

Sam pulled back and laughed. “Yes, sir.” He saluted sarcastically, then turned back to the counter to finish chopping the vegetables.

 

Bucky hadn’t been sleeping well. He’d enjoyed the reprieve while he was at Sam and Steve’s, but now that he was on his own, the night terrors had come screaming back. He dreamed of smoke and noise and a heavy weight pinning him down, and woke himself thrashing, throat sore from screaming and skin clammy with sweat.

He’d managed to successfully avoid Sam until that afternoon, but he didn’t think it had helped. As soon as he had seen him come out from the back of the diner, his heart was in his throat and his fingertips were tingling with the desire to touch. He kept his hands busy and his eyes averted, but he hadn’t missed the hurt look in Sam’s face when he brushed him off.

It was all for the best.

He was in the kitchen drinking his second glass of water when there was a knock on the door. It was the middle of the night and a part of him wanted to open the door with his gun in hand, but he managed to remember that he was in Henning and it was unlikely that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself from whoever was on the other side, even without two good arms.

He opened the door a crack to see Randall on the landing, holding a pie tin. He opened the door wide.

“Randall? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Ah, I’m old; I don’t need much sleep. Valerie’s at the hospital and I saw your light on, so I thought I’d come over and see if you wanted a slice of pie.”

Bucky sighed and waved him in. “Sure. Come on in.”

Randall shuffled into the kitchen and set the pie down on the table. He looked at Bucky through his glasses and narrowed his eyes, then scanned the kitchen counter. “You grab us forks and plates. I’m gonna start some coffee. It don’t look like you’ll be getting back to sleep any time soon anyway.”

Bucky nodded and did as he was told. Once they had everything together, they settled at the table and started in on the pie. When he was about halfway through his slice, Randall spoke.

“So what happened to your arm?”

Bucky started, looked up at Randall and then down at his arm. He’d forgotten that he was just wearing a white undershirt, leaving his arm exposed and visible. He reached up instinctively to cover it with his right hand, even though it was futile.

Before he could come up with a response, Randall continued. “Looks like it was pretty nasty. I’ve got a few scars myself, and some shrapnel rolling around in my leg that I brought back from Dak To.”

He paused to take another bite of his pie, as if this was a completely normal conversation to be having over pie with an almost stranger in the middle of the night. “Saw a lot of shit over there. Bet you’ve seen a lot too.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.” 

He wasn’t sure why — maybe it was the late hour or the pie or the fact that Randall was a fellow soldier who didn’t know him from Adam — but the whole story came pouring out of him. How he’d left school because of financial problems and joined the Army. How he’d ended up training as a sniper. How after a while, he forgot that the people he saw through his scope were people. 

He told Randall about the IED in Kandahar and how he ended up with his arm pinned. How he suffered muscle death and nerve damage, but they were at least able to save his arm. How he got back and had no idea what to do with himself and no one to help him, so he just started driving. He told the whole story in a soft voice that somehow never wavered or cracked.

Randall listened intently through all of it, not interrupting or doing much more than nodding occasionally. When Bucky finished, Randall got up and filled a glass with water. Bucky accepted the cup gratefully and gulped down half the glass.

“You’re the first person I’ve told that story to.”

“Feels good to get it off your chest, don’t it?”

Bucky exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It does.” Randall nodded once, sure of himself. “A lot of guys that came back with me...well, you know how it is. It’s hard enough coming back from war, and we came back to a public who hated us.” He huffed a harsh laugh. “And of course there were those of us who were hated for a hell of a lot more than what we did over there, especially around these parts.”

Bucky frowned and took another sip of water.

“I was lucky — I had Valerie. She didn’t take shit from anybody, and definitely not from me. Whenever I started to slip off to a bad place, she’d grab me by the collar and yank me back. Didn’t let me bottle it all up and try to ignore it — just walked with me through it until we came out the other side.”

Bucky’s glass was empty now, and he stared into the bottom of it.

“Look at me, son.” He did. “Don’t try to shove it all down. It ain’t gonna go anywhere and it ain’t gonna fix itself. I know sometimes you gotta run for a bit, just so you can get yourself some space to breathe. But don’t run forever.”

Bucky nodded, not sure of what to say, not sure if he was even expected to have the words.

“Well now, I’ve spent enough time talking your ear off. I’ll get out of your hair and let you try to get a few minutes of sleep, at least.” He took the now-empty pie tin and shuffled to the door. Bucky was right behind him and watched as he made his way slowly down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, Bucky called out. “Hey, Randall.” Randall turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

Randall smiled up at him. “Any time, son. Any time.”

Bucky closed the door and collapsed onto the sofa. He only had a few hours before he had to be up for work, but it was some of the best sleep he’d had in months.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd have a chance to update for a while, but things clicked while I was driving to Texas yesterday and I managed to squeeze in some writing time today. I typed this all up pretty quickly and haven't had anyone else read over it, so if you notice typos or anything weird, please please please let me know.

Sam woke up to Steve thrashing and whimpering in the middle of the night for the third time that week. He placed a hand on his shoulder, and Steve shot straight up, eyes wide with panic. Once he’d gotten his breathing back under control, his face twisted into a grimace and he dropped his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam sat up and squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. “Hey, no, don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

They sat for a moment in silence, Steve still not looking up. Sam kissed his temple.

“I am worried about you though. Three times this week? That’s a lot.” And those were just the ones he knew about. Sam knew that Steve still didn’t always wake him up, no matter how many times he told him that he should.

Steve sighed. “November 10th.”

Sam mentally smacked himself in the head; he was such an asshole. “I’m so sorry, baby. You want to talk about it?” He rubbed his thumb up and down the back of Steve’s neck, but let go when Steve sat up and leaned his head back against the headboard.

“Not really. It’s fine.”

Three nightmares made Sam think otherwise. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve. It was awful and shitty, but you made the best call you could with what you knew at the time. There was nothing else you could have done.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I know that. You’re not my therapist, Sam.”

Steve’s tone stung, and Sam tried to chalk it up to stress and a lack of sleep, rather than taking it personally. “I know I’m not. But I’m your boyfriend, and I hope you know you can talk to me.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just picked at the edge of the blanket laying in his lap.

“Or if you can’t talk to me, we could call Dr. Stone? See if she has an opening?”

Steve sighed and shifted away slightly. “Really, I’m fine. It’s been eight years; there’s nothing to say about it that I haven’t already said.”

Sam studied Steve’s profile, the tense shoulders, the clenched jaw, the downcast eyes. He could keep pushing, and part of him wanted to, but he didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. Steve was the most stubborn man he’d ever met; if he thought he was fine, he would continue to say so even if he was literally on fire.

“Okay,” he said softly. “C’mere.” 

He slid down under the blankets, tugging on Steve’s hand until he lay back down also. Sam gave him a soft kiss, then nudged him until Steve had his back pressed up against Sam’s chest. Sam held him close, arms wrapped tight around him, his face pressed into the back of Steve’s neck. 

Neither of them fell back asleep, and when the sun rose a few hours later, Steve slipped out of bed, pulled on his sweats and his shoes, and went out for a run.

 

Sam was doing his weekly grocery run a few days later when he turned the corner and saw Bucky halfway down the aisle, perusing the cereal options. He’d seen Bucky around town — outside the garage when he drove by, with Valerie and Randall at the football game the other night — but hadn’t gotten to talk to him since that awkward conversation in the diner two weeks earlier.

He’d tried not to let it bother him. It wasn’t like Sam didn’t have friends, after all. They’d gone over to Misty and Luke’s the other night to watch the Grizzlies game, he’d had a couple of beers with Rhodey, Steve had invited Nick over for dinner — he wasn’t hurting for a social life. He really did want to be friends with Bucky though.

He considered just doing the standard nod-at-your-neighbor thing, but decided to give it one more try. If Bucky still seemed uncomfortable talking to him, he’d play it off as the Southern hospitality rubbing off on him and leave the guy alone.

“Hey, Bucky. How’s it going?”

Bucky turned and while he didn’t look excited, he also didn’t look upset. It was a good start.

“Hey, Sam.” His mouth quirked up into a small half-smile. “I’m good. You?”

“Can’t complain. I saw you at the game the other night — I guess things are going well with Randall and Valerie?”

Bucky nodded and his smile softened. “Yeah, they’re good people. I never thought I’d spend my days hanging out with senior citizens, but I like them a lot.”

Sam saw an opening, and decided to take it. “Well, if you’re looking for someone closer to your own age, Steve won’t be back until late tonight — some church thing down in Memphis — and I’m on my own for dinner. You’re welcome to come over, hang out, watch some football. If you want.”

Sam bit his lip to make himself stop talking. Bucky seemed distracted for a moment, but then nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. What time? Can I bring anything?”

Sam absolutely did not jump for joy, not even internally. “How about 7? And I’ll take care of the food if you bring something to drink?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, Sam.” Bucky turned to finish heading down the aisle.

“See you then.”

 

Sam had just finished putting together a few burger patties when he heard Bucky’s car rumbling up the gravel drive. He left them on the counter and opened the front door, leaning against the side as he watched Bucky climb out of his car, six-pack in hand.

He ushered Bucky into the house, taking his coat and the six-pack, talking a mile a minute and simultaneously telling himself to shut up and stop being so awkward. 

“Sorry, I haven’t let you get a word in, have I?” 

Thankfully Bucky just smiled at him. “Nah, not really. That’s okay, though. I like listening to you talk.”

Sam pulled two beers out and put the rest in the fridge. “Well, good, cause I like to talk. I do want to hear about how things are going with you, though, so don’t think you’re gonna get off easy.”

Bucky laughed and accepted the bottle. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

There was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable yet, so they sat out on the back porch while the burgers cooked on the grill, catching up. Bucky’s job at the garage was going well; Rhodey had such a solid reputation that people came to him from all over the area, which kept them busy.

“I still can’t believe he was a full colonel, friends with Tony Stark, living it up — and decided to retire and move out here.”

“Well, there were some extenuating circumstances, I think.” Sam smirked. “Plus, I can be very persuasive.”

“The unleashed persuasive power of Sam Wilson...I bet that’s something to see.” Bucky smiled at him around the mouth of his bottle, then took a swig. Sam watched as he swallowed, eyes closed, the porch lights casting shadows on his face.

“Well you might get to, if you keep insisting on hanging out with Randall instead of me.”

Bucky leaned over and punched him in the shoulder. “Hey now, Randall is a very fun guy. We have an excellent time together.”

“Oh yeah? Y’all get the early bird special and watch Wheel of Fortune together?”

“Jeopardy, actually.” Bucky grinned, then looked down and picked at the label on his beer. “But really, he’s great. He makes things easy. Gets me talking about shit I would never talk about otherwise.”

“Yeah?” Sam tilted his head, considering.

“Yeah. A week or so ago, I ended up telling him the whole story about Afghanistan and my arm and everything. It actually felt good to get it off my chest.” 

Sam wondered if that was a veiled invitation to ask questions, but didn’t want to risk it. “That’s great, man. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. It was a long time coming.” Bucky gave him a look he couldn’t quite parse. “Must be nice for you and Steve, having someone right there that you can talk about that kind of thing with.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, keeping his voice even. He wasn’t going to complain about Steve to Bucky, no matter how tempting it might be. He got up and checked on the burgers, casting about for a new subject. He moved them off the grill and onto a plate while he thought.

“You thought any more about what you’re gonna do when you leave here?”

Bucky shrugged. “A bit. Being around Rhodey and helping Miles with his homework has me back in science nerd mode. Figured I may look into going back to school, finishing my degree.”

“That’s awesome, Buck.” He opened the door and waved Bucky through.

Under the bright lights in the kitchen, Sam could see the flush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess. Haven’t really done much more than think about it yet. Not even sure if any of my old credits will count.”

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“I hope so.”

They settled in front of the TV with their burgers and for a while there was just the sounds of them eating and the noise of the football game. Sam was halfway through his burger before he spoke again.

“So I guess that means you’ll still be in Henning for Thanksgiving?”

“Looks like it. Why?”

“Steve and I always do a big Thanksgiving dinner over here. Randall’s group from the diner comes, and my mom and sister and nephew drive in. We’d love to have you too, if you’re interested.”

Bucky’s smile lit up his whole face. “That sounds great. Been a long time since I had a home-cooked family Thanksgiving.”

“Well, that’s a travesty. You definitely have to come. We’ll take good care of you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Sam finished his last couple of bites and washed it down with a swig of beer. He leaned back into the couch and looked over at Bucky. He was still sitting forward, leaning over the coffee table and trying not to drip ketchup on his shirt. His hair was pulled back, a few strands escaping and falling against his cheek. He looked good, healthier. The sallow look and the bags under his eyes from the first night he walked into the diner had faded away.

Sam shook himself before he could get caught staring.

“You know,” he said later in the evening, as he walked Bucky to the front door, “I’m really glad you came over tonight.”

Bucky paused on the porch and turned to smile at him. “Me, too. It’s been a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad. I thought maybe I had offended you or something the other week. It seemed like maybe you were avoiding me.” Bucky looked concerned, a small line appearing between his brows. Sam found himself wanting to do whatever he could to bring back his smile. “Whatever, ignore me. I’ve got a kind of ridiculous imagination sometimes.”

Bucky stepped back towards him where he stood in the doorway. He reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped a hand around Sam’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, Sam. It was a rough couple of days and I had some things I needed to sort out in my head. But believe me, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sam nodded. “Cool, cool. I just — you can tell me if I do, you know? Offend you or whatever, I mean.”

The hand on his wrist tightened.

“Sam. Look at me.” Bucky’s voice was soft, but firm, and Sam lifted his eyes. “You are probably one of the kindest and most generous people I have ever met. You’re amazing and I can’t even imagine you doing anything that would offend me or hurt my feelings.”

Warmth spread in Sam’s chest as he held Bucky’s gaze. It was obvious that he was serious and wanted Sam to believe every word he was saying. They stood like that for a long moment, on either side of the doorway, Bucky’s hand on his wrist, fireflies flashing in the dark yard behind him.

Gravel crunched underneath truck tires and headlights swung up over the hill and towards the house. Bucky let go and stepped back, turning to greet Steve as he pulled up and climbed out of the truck.

“Hey, Bucky. You keep my man here company while I was out?” Sam stepped out onto the porch and Steve came up next to him, sliding an arm around his waist.

“More like he rescued me from the brink of becoming a 75-year-old man, but yeah. I was just heading out, though.” Sam thought he saw Bucky’s eyes drift to where Steve’s hand rested against his side.

“Well, I won’t keep you, then. Good to see you.”

“You too. You guys have a good night.” Bucky gave a small wave and then headed towards his car.

Sam turned to Steve. “You have a good day?”

“Yep.” Steve leaned in and gave him a kiss, one that was not quite chaste and full of the promise of things to come. “Even better now. How about you?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “It was a good day.”

The sound of Bucky’s car faded into the distance as Steve led him into the house, closing the door behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Emily for the read through. And to all of you who leave lovely, lovely comments on each chapter - you are amazing and I wish you all the green lights and good hair days *blows kisses*

Bucky had tried on three different shirts before going over to Sam’s the other week, but he only actually owned about five, so he figured he should probably go shopping before Thanksgiving. Miles had told him about a stretch of quality thrift stores in Memphis, so the Saturday before the holiday he took the day off and drove into the city.

It took some digging, but he was able to find a few things - a nice gray sweater, some plaid button downs, and another that seemed to be made out of some sort of denim, but was extremely soft. It felt good on his skin and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he actually liked what he saw.

He’d always been a good-looking guy, and there was a time when he took a lot of pride in that, but after Afghanistan, it seemed like all he had been able to see was the scarring on his arm, even when it was completely covered by long sleeves. But now, even with the stubble on his cheek and his lank hair hanging down around his face, he saw a bit of his old self in the mirror.

Clothing mission accomplished, he made his was way over to the used bookstore in midtown, also recommended by Miles. The kid had talked it up so much that Bucky was a bit skeptical, but it didn’t disappoint. The science fiction section was excellent and he took some time to sit in one of the old chairs and read before buying a few paperbacks and heading back out of town.

His route took him right past the University of Memphis. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned onto campus, found parking, and followed the signs to the admissions office. He was too self-conscious to actually talk to the person at the desk, but he did go over to the rack and grab a few brochures and a course catalog.

Back in the car, city gave way to countryside and Bucky found himself humming along to the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. It hit him all of a sudden — he was happy. 

Sure, he still woke up in the middle of the night with a head full of sand and smoke once or twice a week, and there were days when his arm was so painful he thought it might have been better to lose it completely after all, but on the whole, things were good. He had a good job that made him feel useful, Rhodey was becoming more of a friend than a boss, and Valerie and Randall had somehow wormed their way in and filled a hole he hadn’t even known was empty.

And there was Sam. Bucky wasn’t delusional — he knew that a lot of the appeal of Henning had to do with Sam. He also knew that nothing would ever happen. Sam clearly loved Steve, and Bucky didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. But he enjoyed Sam’s company too much to stay away completely, that much was obvious. So he’d take advantage of the moments he got and continue to focus on building himself a life that didn’t revolve around a silly, pointless crush.

That didn’t mean he didn’t spend longer getting ready Thanksgiving Day than was strictly necessary. His hair was clean and conditioned, pulled back neatly away from his face. He shaved carefully, making sure not to miss any spots. He wore his new blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and was surprised to find that he wasn’t too bothered by the scars on his left arm peeking out. He practiced a nonchalant smile in the mirror, then shook his head and laughed softly at himself.

He was ridiculous.

He grabbed the case of beer he had picked up from a brewery in Memphis and headed over to Sam and Steve’s. Sam had told him he didn’t have to bring anything, but he had enough manners to know not to show up empty handed.

When he pulled into the drive, there was already a crowd spilling off of the front porch and out into the yard. The Friday regulars were all there — Randall and Valerie had insisted on driving themselves, saying they didn’t want to cramp Bucky’s style when they left early. He saw Misty and Luke on the porch, their two girls running around the yard with who he assumed was Jody, Sam’s niece. Miles and his parents were helping set up the long tables, along with a woman Bucky hadn’t met.

He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin, so he was glad when Rhodey pulled up right behind him.

“We got lucky with the weather, didn’t we?” Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, we did. I can’t imagine what they would have done with all these people if it had rained.” Bucky sounded nervous even to his own ears, and Rhodey gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s get that beer inside and see if Sam and Steve need any help.”

Bucky nodded and followed Rhodey up the porch steps and into the house. Sam and Steve were in the kitchen with an older woman Bucky figured must be Sam’s mom. They all turned when Bucky and Rhodey came in, and Sam rushed over to take the beer from Bucky.

“Well now,” Sam’s mom said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Who do we have here?”

“You remember Rhodey from last year, right? And this is Bucky.”

“Of course I remember Rhodey.” She came over and pulled him into a big hug, which Rhodey returned gratefully.

“It’s good to see you, ma’am.”

She smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Darlene at least a dozen times last year?”

“Yes, you did, but my own mama would be spinning in her grave if she heard me call you that.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that!” Darlene laughed, then turned to Bucky, looking at him appraisingly. “And you’re Bucky. I’ve heard a lot about you, although not how on God’s green earth you ended up with a name like Bucky.”

Bucky resisted the urge to shove his hands in his pockets or rub the back of his neck. “Nothing too terrible, I hope. And my full name is James Buchanan Barnes, but that was a little much when I was a kid. My sister gave me the nickname.”

“Is she nearby? Will she be joining us too?”

“Uh, no.” Bucky cleared his throat. “She’s back in New York.”

Thankfully Darlene picked up on his discomfort and easily shifted the conversation, piling dishes in each of their arms and ushering them out to the front. The table was full of more food than Bucky had ever seen at a Thanksgiving dinner, and he wasn’t even sure what all of it was. He was definitely excited to eat it, though.

The parents were trying to wrangle their kids into a circle to pray over the food when Steve sidled up to Bucky’s side.

“Just so you know, the prayer is going to be long.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Be prepared. And when we do finally get to eat, make sure you take a little bit of everything. It may not seem like it, but everyone is watching and you don’t want to offend anyone by skipping their dish.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

Steve gave him a wry smile. “Figured I’d try to save you from some of the mistakes I made the first time around. I’m pretty sure Joe’s wife still hasn’t forgiven me for skipping her collard greens that year.”

Bucky laughed softly, but didn’t get a chance to ask for more of the story because Don was shushing them all so he could say grace, which went on just as long as Steve had promised.

 

Steve leaned back in his chair with a groan, beginning to regret that last piece of sweet potato pie. He looked out across the yard to where Sam and Bucky were involved in some sort of elaborate version of keep away with Jody and the other girls. They’d invited him to join in, but he hadn’t really felt like it, using his full stomach as an excuse.

He couldn’t quite figure out all the rules of the game, but it seemed to involve a lot of Sam or Bucky or both being on the ground and covered in small children. Peals of laughter rang out and Steve smiled as Sam let himself be tackled by one of the girls, then stuck a leg out to trip Bucky and send him tumbling to the ground also.

Nick collapsed into chair next to him, beer in hand. “Huh. Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Seems like Bucky’s getting pretty close to Sam over there.” Steve looked back over at the game just in time to see Bucky helping the girls tickle Sam, who was tugging on Bucky’s hair in retaliation. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Steve really didn’t want to be having this conversation today. “It’s fine, Nick. They’re friends.”

“Mmhmm. They’re definitely friendly. I just don’t trust him, Steve.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“And with good reason. People will always put themselves first, do what’s best for them, even if they sugarcoat it or lie to themselves about it. Thinking otherwise is just willfully blinding yourself.”

“Sam’s not like that.” Steve picked up his paper napkin and started folding it over and over, as many times as he could.

“Maybe not. But we don’t know Barnes that well, and it looks to me like something’s happening there. What you do about it is up to you, I just want to make sure you keep both eyes open.”

Steve knew there was no point in arguing. “I will, Nick. Thanks.”

Nick nodded and wandered away, joining into a conversation Joe and Don were having with Darlene. Steve looked around the yard at all their friends and family. Sam’s family. And honestly, mostly Sam’s friends. If it had been up to Steve, he probably wouldn’t talk to anyone in Henning. Sure, he was closer to Nick and Sharon than Sam was, but with everyone else, it was Sam who made the introductions and extended the invitations and kept the conversations flowing.

All of this — the house, the town, the people — it was all Sam-and-Steve’s. He had lost everything that was just his a long time ago.

 

Sam was picking the last few pieces of grass out of his hair when his sister cornered him in the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest, expression serious.

“Um, cleaning up?”

“That’s not what I mean. What are you doing with Bucky?”

Sam looked at her in the mirror. “Sarah, what are you talking about?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Tickling? Hair pulling? Really?”

“We were just being silly, goofing around with the kids.” Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. That may have looked like harmless goofing around to everyone else, but I know you. I’ve seen that look on your face before.”

Sam turned to face her and crossed his own arms. “What look?”

“The look you gave Laila in high school. The look you were giving Riley in all the pictures of you two. The look you give Steve, although I haven’t seen it aimed at him as much today.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He’s my friend, Sarah. That’s it.”

Sarah sighed. “Just be careful, Sam. You’ve been happy here with Steve. I don’t want to see you mess that up.” She left, and he turned back to the mirror. He had gotten all the grass out of his hair, but he couldn’t seem to look himself in the eye. He shook his head and went outside to rejoin the group.

 

When the dishes were done and most of the guests had gone home, foiled covered plates in hand, Sam brought a glass of sweet tea out to his mom where she was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. He sat in the chair next to her and looked out into the yard. The sun had set hours ago, and even though the air was full of sounds from the world around them, it felt quiet.

“You have a good day, baby?”

He looked over at his mom and smiled. “Yeah, I did. I’m so glad we do this every year.”

“Me too.” 

The front door opened and Bucky came out onto the porch.

“It’s past time for me to head out, I think. Thanks so much for having me.” 

Sam stood up and gave him a hug. “I’m glad you came.” 

Bucky looked down and scuffed a boot against the porch, then looked back up at them smiling. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Oh, quit it with that Mrs. Wilson nonsense. And get over here and give me a hug goodbye.” Bucky did as he was told, then gave them both a small wave and walked off into the night.

Sam returned to his seat, and they sat together in silence, rocking back and forth.

“Is Steve okay?” Darlene asked after a while. Sam looked over, confused.

“As far as I know. Why do you ask?”

“He seemed quiet today. Kinda tense. I was worried maybe you two had been fighting or something.”

“No, we’re great.” Sam looked down at his hands. “Well, maybe not great.”

“What’s going on?”

Sam took a deep breath. “He won’t talk to me. He’s had a rough few weeks, but he won’t talk about it and he doesn’t let me help. It’s frustrating.”

“Hmmm. And what about Bucky?”

Sam groaned. “Not you too.”

“Not me too? Who else said anything?”

“Sarah cornered me earlier. She thinks I have a crush on him, that I’m going to screw things up with Steve or something.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a crush on him. He seems like a sweet boy. And he is very nice to look at it.”

“Ma,” Sam said reproachfully.

“What? He is! And if Steve has been closing himself off, it would make sense that you would be drawn to somebody who seems more open.”

Sam didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he wanted to look at that too closely.

“Of course, having a small crush on a new friend is one thing. Acting on it is a whole other thing.”

Sam’s head jerked up. “I wouldn’t act on it. I could never do that to Steve. I love him.”

Darlene reached over and grabbed his hand. “I know you do, sweetheart. But sometimes things surprise us and we find ourselves acting in ways we never could have imagined. If you don’t want that to happen to you, you can’t keep ignoring what you’re feeling.”

Sam squeezed her hand tightly and stared out into the yard. He thought of all the little moments with Bucky — working together on the house, playing soccer with Joaquin and Idris, how upset he had been when he thought Bucky was avoiding him, that moment on the porch just a week or so ago, the feeling of Bucky’s hand on his wrist. 

“I do like him,” he said softly. He turned to his mom. “What am I going to do?”

“If I know you at all, whatever you believe the right thing is.” She patted his hand, then stood up and kissed his forehead. “I’m gonna go to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

Sam followed her in a few minutes later and found Steve already sound asleep in their bed. He brushed his teeth, stripped down to his boxers, and slipped into bed next to him. He fell asleep with his arm curled around Steve’s waist, and woke up a few hours later to his whole body shaking and wet hiccuping sounds coming from deep in his chest.

“Steve, baby, what’s wrong?” He grabbed Steve’s shoulder and tried to turn him towards Sam, but he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you up; please just go back to sleep.” His voice was hoarse and cracked.

“I’m not just gonna go back to sleep when you’re upset. Talk to me. _Please._ ”

“Just let it go, Sam.”

Sam swung his legs off the bed and stalked over to the far wall, turning on the overhead light. The stark brightness filled the room and he blinked his eyes against it as he went to stand on Steve’s side of the bed.

“No. We’re not doing this again. I can’t just let this go. Something’s obviously wrong and maybe you can keep ignoring it, but I can’t.”

Steve sat up. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to _talk_ to me. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

Steve’s jaw clenched and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “You want me to tell you what’s going on? You want me to wake you up every damn time I have a nightmare? To tell you all about how fucking guilty I am that I’m here with you, in this house, while the rest of my unit never got to come home? To cry on your shoulder because my mom loved this time of year, but she’s gone too, along with everything I had in my life before the army, before you? Is that what you want to hear?”

Steve was panting, his face red and splotchy, his eyes wet. Sam was stunned into silence by his outburst, then grabbed Steve by the shoulders. “ _Yes!_ I want all of that! I want you to share what you’re feeling, even the awful, painful, ugly shit, because that’s the only way I can actually be here for you!”

Steve’s head hung between his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Sam let go of him as though his hands had been burned. His chest was tight and there was a rock in the pit of his stomach. “Then I’m not really sure what it is we’re doing anymore.”

Sam watched as Steve’s face shuttered, as he folded all of his emotions up and placed them back into their boxes, locked away.

“Then do what you need to do, Sam.” Steve collapsed back onto the bed, a puppet whose strings have been cut, and pulled the covers back over himself. Sam stood and stared down at him for a moment, then turned off the light and crawled back into bed. 

There were only a few inches between them, but the distance seemed insurmountable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooorrrrrrry! I promise I'm gonna fix it...eventually :)
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me about it [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lauren for the read-through and trouble-shooting. You're the best, darling!

Steve woke up alone the next morning, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. In the light of day, he knew he had fucked up.

Sam was standing at the stove, staring down at an empty pan, the burner lit and a carton of eggs on the counter next to him. Steve walked over and leaned on the counter next to him, in his peripheral vision but doing his best not to invade Sam’s space.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam sighed and turned off the stove, not looking up. “For which part?”

Steve deserved that. “For raising my voice. For where I left the conversation. I know you don’t like to go to bed angry.”

Sam nodded and seemed to tilt in his direction, like a part of him wanted to lean into Steve. He hesitated, then slowly put his hands on Sam’s waist, giving him plenty of time to back away.

“I love you.”

Sam lifted a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching, but he still didn’t look at Steve.

“I love you too. And I know you love me. But I need you to trust me.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix this. He wanted to tell Sam that he _did_ trust him, of course he did, but he didn’t think that would be good enough this time. 

They stood there, holding each other in the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen as though it was trying to help illuminate all the things he’d kept hidden.

 

They went to work at the diner that afternoon, as they usually did. Apparently everyone was tired of eating Thanksgiving leftovers, because they were slammed the whole day and Steve barely had a moment to breathe.

He finally had a chance to take a break, and peered through the pass-through to see if Sam was out front or back in the office. He scanned the restaurant and caught sight of Sam and Bucky in one of the booths, heads bowed over a beat up laptop and a pile of brochures that was spread out on the table.

Steve watched as Sam threw back his head and laughed at something Bucky said. The two of them were loose, relaxed, not an ounce of tension in either of them. They looked comfortable together. They looked good together.

Sharon came up behind him. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Sam and Bucky.”

“They’ve become pretty good friends, haven’t they?”

“I’m gonna lose him.”

Sharon scoffed. “Sam? No you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve turned his back to the pass-through. “Bucky’s better for him than I am.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? Bucky’s got all these dreams and plans. He’s going places.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m not. I dragged Sam out here because of my mess, and now he’s stuck. He deserves more than 12-hour shifts at a shitty diner and a boyfriend who can’t even manage to sleep through the night.”

“First of all, this diner is not shitty, thank you very much. And second, don’t you think it’s up to Sam to decide what he deserves? Has he ever said anything to make you think he was unhappy here with you?”

“He’s definitely frustrated with me.” Sharon raised an eyebrow at him. “He wants me to open up, talk about my feelings more, but I just...I don’t know how.”

“That’s still not the same as being unhappy and having one foot out the door.” Steve rolled his eyes in response. “Look, if you’re really worried about it, you should _talk_ to him. You can’t keep it all bottled up.”

“I’ve been bottling things up for 30 years. It’s worked so far.”

Sharon smacked him on the back of the head. “Yeah, worked so well that you ran away from everything you knew to open a diner in the middle of nowhere and now you can’t sleep through the night.”

That stung, but Sharon never was one to sugarcoat things.

“If you’re really worried about losing him, fight for him. If you think there’s something more he needs, find a way to give it to him. I really don’t think you’re the kind of person to lay down and take it.”

“I didn’t used to be. But now…”

“So find that person you used to be. He’s still in there somewhere.” Sharon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You and Sam have a really good thing together. I’d hate to see you let it fall apart.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Misty brought over an order and he and Sharon went back to work.

 

Bucky felt lighter than he had in a long time. He’d been looking through the information he picked up at the U of M and working on his application with Sam, and he finally felt like he was moving towards something instead of just wandering aimlessly. He had been pleased to find out that he could still apply for the spring semester. He was cutting it close, and he still didn’t know if any of his old credits would transfer, but he was feeling pretty positive about the whole thing.

He was almost finished with the essay Sam had agreed to look over when Sharon and Steve came out from the back.

“You about ready to close up, Sam?” Steve approached the booth, but he didn’t give Sam a kiss or place a hand on his shoulder like usual. In fact, he seemed nervous, awkward.

“Uh, sorry, Steve. I wasn’t paying attention.” Sam looked up at Steve, but didn’t make a move to touch him either. “I promised Buck I would look over his essay before he submitted everything, and he’s almost finished, plus I’ve still gotta finish closing out the register.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t mind hanging out a bit longer, if you need me to.”

Sam bit his lip. “You look dead on your feet, and I know you must be tired after last night. Why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll finish up here and then Bucky can take me home.” He turned towards Bucky. “You okay with that?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure. That’s no problem.”

“I don’t want you to have to go out of your way. Why don’t I just ask Sharon to drop me off and leave you the truck?”

Sam looked over to where Sharon was putting on her coat by the counter. “You good with that Sharon?”

“Sure thing. I have to drive right past your house anyway.”

“Okay then.” Steve shifted away, then paused. “See you at home?”

“Yeah, see you at home.”

Steve nodded, waited a beat, and then went out to the parking lot with Sharon. The whole conversation had felt weird. Bucky was tempted to ask Sam if he and Steve were okay, but he decided it wasn’t any of his business. Instead, he turned back to finish up his essay while Sam closed everything down.

He was working on the last paragraph when the door to the diner slammed open, breaking into the quiet.

“Hey man, sorry, but we’re —” Sam stopped abruptly and Bucky looked up to see a kid he didn’t know, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with a gun in Sam’s face.

Instinct took over and Bucky launched himself out of the booth. The kid turned his head at the noise and Bucky slammed into him, tackling him to the ground. Within seconds, he had him pinned and disarmed, the gun now pointing in the kid’s face and his finger on the trigger.

He wasn’t even breathing hard.

The kid was though, his eyes filled with fear, panic obvious on his face. His mouth was moving, but all Bucky could hear was a roaring in his head. Every muscle was tensed, waiting for the kid to try to buck him off or fight back.

“Bucky! _Bucky!_ ” Sam’s voice finally broke through the haze. 

Bucky threw the gun away and it skidded under a table. He stood up, still looming over the kid and growled. “Get out of here. Now.”

The kid scrambled away from him and stumbled out the door. Bucky’s was trembling, scanning the diner for any other threats, waiting to see who or what was going to burst through the door next. Sam’s hand came up to grasp his shoulder and he flinched away.

“It’s just me, Bucky. It’s okay. We’re okay.” Bucky turned towards him, but couldn’t make sense of his words. Okay? Sam had just had a gun in his face. Nothing was okay.

Sam approached him again slowly, palms out as if Bucky was a dangerous animal he was trying to put at ease. Maybe he wasn’t too far off. Sam inched closer, and then gently led Bucky over to one of the stools at the counter.

“Go ahead and have a seat, man. Just breathe with me, okay?” He took Bucky’s right hand and placed it on his chest. “We’re at the diner, in Henning. You’re working on your college application. You’re home. You’re safe. I’m safe. Just breathe.”

Sam’s words finally sank in and he got his breathing under control. Sam stepped away for a moment and came back with a glass of water. Bucky wanted to gulp down the entire thing at once, but forced himself to sip slowly, letting the panic melt out of his body.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered.

“It wasn’t —” He started to protest, but Sam cut him off.

“No, shhh. Thank you.” He placed a warm hand on the side of Bucky’s face, and his eyes slipped closed as he leaned into it, unable to stop himself. He opened them, and his eyes met Sam’s.

He saw it as if he was standing outside of the moment — himself sitting on the stool, Sam’s thumb brushing his cheek, each of them staring at the other one. He saw them frozen like statues, and then saw Sam’s breath hitch. He saw Sam lean in.

And then Sam was kissing him.

He slammed back into his body and immediately returned the kiss. A needy noise sounded in his throat and he hooked his fingers into Sam’s belt loops, pulling him close until he was standing between Bucky’s knees. The adrenaline that had started to dissipate surged through him again as his hands began to roam up Sam’s arms and over his chest.

It was perfect. It was everything he had wanted since practically that first night, when he had wandered into the diner lost and wounded and found himself face to face with a blinding smile and kind eyes.

Sam’s hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, gently brushing against the skin just above his waistband. He gasped and Sam took advantage of the moment and deepened the kiss. He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think, just wanted to feel. Feel Sam’s warm hands on his skin, his heartbeat under Bucky’s fingers, his lips pressing against his over and over and over. He didn’t want to think about all the reasons he couldn’t have this.

The reasons he couldn’t have this.

Steve.

Sam and Steve.

He pushed Sam away. Sam looked down at Bucky, desire and heat swirling in his eyes. He tried to lean in, but Bucky put a hand out to stop him. He exhaled a shaky breath and slowly shook his head.

“Sam. _Sam._ We can’t do this.” Sam’s face crumpled, and Bucky slid sideways off the stool, turning his back and going over to the table to throw his things in his bag.

Sam approached him. “Bucky…” He sounded scared, uncertain. Bucky couldn’t look at him. He threw the last of his papers into his bag and brushed past Sam.

“I have to go.”

He couldn’t believe what he had done. He couldn’t stay and deal with the fallout. 

He ran.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have left y'all in suspense for a bit longer, but I'm too impatient :)

Steve sat in mass on Sunday morning, but he didn’t hear a word of it. He’d apologized to Sam and they had worked together all day yesterday, but things still felt out of sync. Steve had wanted to reach for him, touch him, kiss him, before he left the diner last night, but for the first time since they had gotten together, he hadn’t been sure if Sam would welcome his affection.

He had already been asleep when Sam came home, and then had woken up early to ride to Memphis with Sharon. So here he was, going through the motions, kneeling and standing and sitting, mind swirling as he tried to figure out a solution.

He knew what he needed to do; Sam had been abundantly clear on that point. He wanted Steve to open up, to share more, to stop maintaining the facade that everything was fine. And if Steve was honest with himself, he knew that he needed that. He was tired of waking up in a cold sweat, tired of trying to outrun his own head.

It was tempting to just tell Sam that he would do better and keep trying on his own, but Sam needed more than reassurances, more than empty words. He _deserved_ more than that. And Steve also knew himself — there was no way he could go from shoving all of his feelings down to being completely open and vulnerable immediately. It was going to take work, and it was going to take time.

He needed to prove to Sam that he was serious, that he really was going to try, that he was willing to ask for help. It would be hard, but losing Sam would be even harder.

Mass ended and he walked towards the door at the back of the church. He watched as the old couple in front of him made their way down the aisle, the man leaning on his cane and his wife holding onto his arm. He saw them every week and was always struck by how in love they still were. The late November air was cold, but the sun was shining and when it glinted off the gold band on the man’s finger, Steve knew what he wanted to do.

 

Sam did his weekly grocery run and then zoned out on the couch, football playing in the background. The memory of the previous night kept repeating in his head, over and over and over. The kiss had been perfect while it lasted, but it was all mixed up with Bucky fleeing and the way Sam’s stomach sank every time he thought about Steve.

He must have dozed off at some point because he woke to fading sunlight and the smell of garlic and tomato sauce wafting out of the kitchen. He yawned and stretched as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, babe,” Steve said from his place at the stove. “I’m almost finished with that chicken pasta thing that you like. You want to grab a bottle of wine for us?”

“What’s the occasion?” Sam went over to the wine rack to see what they had. They weren’t huge wine drinkers, but they usually kept a few bottles around.

“Um, nothing really. I wanted to do something nice and...well, I’ll tell you when we sit down.”

He looked back to see Steve’s cheeks were flushed red, his eyes fixed on the sauce he was stirring. He was rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels and back.

“Okay.” He grabbed one of the bottles out of the rack.

“I already set the table, if you want to go ahead and pour. Oh, and I put candles out, but I couldn’t find the lighter.”

Sam set the bottle on the table and then went over to a drawer a few feet away from Steve and pulled out the lighter, waving it in Steve’s direction.

His cheeks somehow got even redder. “Oh, right.”

Sam lit the candles, wondering what Steve was up to. “You know our anniversary’s not for another couple weeks, right?”

Steve turned off the stove and poured the sauce and then the chicken into the serving bowl of pasta, mixing it all together. “Yeah, I know. I promise, I’ll explain everything once we eat.”

Sam expected the conversation over dinner to be awkward, but it wasn’t. He had always been able to talk to Steve, even if it wasn’t always about the things he thought they should be talking about. He caught Steve up on the gossip he’d heard at the grocery store that afternoon and Steve relayed the story Sharon had told him about Misty’s daughter figuring out how to undo her own diaper and running around the front yard without a stitch of clothing on and Luke chasing after her.

He was laughing so hard that he could almost pretend that everything was back to normal.

When he stopped, though, Steve’s face was serious and he was fidgeting with his napkin.

“This has been really nice, Steve, but what’s it all about?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I know that things have been...off, lately. And I know that most of that is because of me.”

He paused, and Sam waited.

“When we moved out here, I thought the change of scenery would fix everything. I met with Dr. Stone a few times, as you know, but mostly I figured I just needed a fresh start, to find a place that was as different as possible from both Afghanistan and New York. And you came with me, which I haven’t thanked you for enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Steve held a hand up. “I know. But I want to. And you were right the other night. I thought that if I just pretended to be fine long enough, eventually I would be. But ignoring things hasn’t worked — all it’s done is made me closed off and made me push you away. I want you to know that I don’t want to do that anymore, and I want you to believe me when I say that.” Steve shifted in his chair to reach into his pocket, and then set a black velvet ring box on the table.

“Steve...” Sam’s throat closed up and he tried to stop him, but Steve just barrelled forward.

“Don’t freak out — it’s not a proposal. It’s just...a promise. I know I can’t ask you to marry me when I’m still hiding and avoiding things. But this is me telling you that I want to ask you someday. And I want us to be in a place where you’ll be willing to say yes, which means I’m going to do my best to tell you what I’m feeling and I’m not going to shut you out anymore. You’ll probably still need the patience of a saint, but I’m in, Sam. I’m all in.”

“I kissed Bucky.” The words spilled out of his mouth. They hovered there, in the air between them, stark and unavoidable.

Steve stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking, silent.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were at the diner and someone came in with a gun and I thought I was gonna die, but all of a sudden Bucky was there and he saved me and then he was panicking and I was talking him down and it just happened.”

“It just happened,” Steve echoed. “Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?”

“I kissed him.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. Sam’s stomach lurched at the pain on his face. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Steve barked a harsh laugh. “Don’t say that. Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

“I’m sorry. I am. I would do anything to take it back.”

“Would you?” Steve looked up, his eyes sorrowful, but not accusing. Sam didn’t know how to answer him. “What do you want, Sam?”

“I don’t know. Bucky is…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. “I care about him. A lot. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Steve nodded and swallowed audibly. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No! I don’t know. Is that what you want?”

“I want you to be happy.” His face was so earnest, his eyes rimmed red and full of tears.

“I am happy, Steve. I’ve been happy here, with you. But you’ve been running and running and I felt lonely and then Bucky was there and he made me happy too. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do, and I want you to stop running and start fighting. I _need_ you to start fighting for me. _With_ me. For us.”

“I want to. I’m going to. That’s what I was trying to say — I want to fight for this.” Steve’s voice was soft, pained. “But what about Bucky?”

Sam got up and walked around the table to kneel in front of Steve’s chair. He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and drew him close. “I don’t know. I don’t know about Bucky. But I know that if you really do stop running from me, we can figure this out. Together.”

“I will,” he said emphatically. “I will. I’ll call Dr. Stone tomorrow. We can go together. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Sam still wasn’t sure if that would be enough, but he had to at least try. He had to let Steve try. And in the meantime, he’d try to figure out what to do with his feelings for Bucky. He couldn’t ask Steve to face his demons and then turn around and refuse to face his own.

 

Sam was tempted to cancel on Rhodey when he finished his shift at the diner on Monday, but he knew it would be good for him to spend some time with his friend, even if he was tired. The rest of the evening had been subdued — he and Steve had gone to bed early, held each other close, and talked late into the night. Sleep, when it did come, had been fitful.

Rhodey spotted him when he walked in and waved him over to the bar.

“Jesus, Sam. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“Hey, you like that I always speak the truth.” Rhodey smiled wide at him.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and buy me a drink.” Rhodey did, and they sat together for a bit, watching the game that played on the TV above the bar.

“So what’s got you looking like you just finished the first week of basic?”

“Did you see Bucky today?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at the seeming non sequitur. “Nah, he had the day off today. Why?”

“I kissed him.” He traced his finger around the edge of his glass, afraid to see Rhodey’s reaction.

“Okay. Did you plan to do that, or was it a spontaneous thing?”

Sam’s head snapped up. “That’s it? You’re not gonna tell me I’m awful for kissing someone else when I’m with Steve?”

“From the look on your face, you’re telling yourself that enough. So answer the question — planned or spontaneous?”

“Spontaneous.” Sam told Rhodey the whole story, from the kid in the diner to his conversation with Steve the night before. It was cathartic, actually, to tell the whole thing to someone who’s face didn’t twist in disgust or crumple in despair. Rhodey listened patiently to the whole thing and Sam exhaled a sigh of relief when he finished.

Rhodey finally spoke. “Did I ever tell you why I left New York?”

“Not really. Just that it was about your personal life, not work.” Sam wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he knew Rhodey wouldn’t just change the subject and move on.

Rhodey nodded. “It’s pretty common knowledge that I was friends with Tony Stark. We went to MIT together, we worked together when he was a defense contractor, we were seen together all the time. What wasn’t common knowledge was that we had a kind of on-again, off-again thing going on ever since MIT.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I know. I’m bi. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Just didn’t seem like it really mattered out here; it’s not like I’ve done a whole lot of dating.”

It would have been nice to know, just for solidarity’s sake, but Sam wasn’t going to hold it against him. People had the right to decide whether or not to be out. “Fair enough. And Tony?”

Rhodey laughed. “Tony will fuck anyone who can hold his interest long enough, no matter who they are.”

“And you held his interest?”

Rhodey’s smile was bittersweet. “Most of the time, yeah. And even when we weren’t together, we were always friends. He’s a bit of a mess, but I can’t help but love the guy.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, Tony’s also poly. Do you know…?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know. The basics, at least. I do read occasionally.”

“Alright, smartass. Okay, so a few years ago, Tony finally pulled his head out of his ass and realized that Pepper was a lot more than just his assistant. We were on-again at the time, and he wanted to pursue something with her, but he didn’t want to break up with me.”

Sam realized this story’s connection to his own problem and leaned in.

“He talked to me about it, and I agreed. Partly I didn’t like thinking of myself as a jealous person and partly I thought it was likely that he would lose interest pretty quickly.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t. It worked for a while, but while Tony has a lot of love to give, he’s terrible at communication. We never seemed to be able to get all three of us on the same page and it led to a lot of disappointment and frustration.”

Rhodey paused and took a drink. “Eventually, Pepper had had enough. My guess is that she wanted things to be more clearly defined, but Tony heard an ultimatum. So he ended things with me. I think he figured that we’d been friends for so long, that I would just keep hanging around like I always had.”

Sam reached out to give Rhodey’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. Rhodey took a deep breath and continued. “I mean, he had good reason. That’s what I’d always done before. And I don’t know if it was just being older or because he was so different with Pepper, but this time I couldn’t stay. And you had been talking this place up, so I figured it was as good as any. And here we are.”

Sam turned Rhodey’s story over in his head, considering all the angles. “So you don’t think it can work? The poly thing?”

Rhodey shook his head slowly. “No, I’m not saying that. I know there are people out there who figure it out and end up happy. I’m just saying that if you are somebody who can love and be committed to more than one person at a time — which honestly wouldn’t surprise me about you — you need to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Do your research. It’s hard. It’s really fucking hard. And everyone has to communicate. If one of the people involved doesn’t feel comfortable speaking up about their needs and expectations, someone’s going to get hurt.”

Sam drew circles in the condensation from his glass that had settled on the bar. “Before it went wrong, was it worth it to you? Was being with him enough, even if you had to share?”

“For me it was.” Rhodey’s face was serious. “But if you’re wondering if it’ll be enough for Steve or Bucky, you’ll have to ask them. Like I said, communication. It’s the only way it’ll work.”

Sam hummed in response. They sat in silence for a while, surrounded by the noise of the bar. Eventually Sam turned to Rhodey and smiled. “You wanna talk about football for the rest of the night?”

Rhodey grinned back at him. “Hell, yes. Did you see Mariota yesterday? I know the kid’s young, but what the hell was going on with all those interceptions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this made things worse instead of better, feel free to come yell at me [on tumblr](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the thing where I didn't want to wait for someone else to read over it again, so let me know if you notice any glaring typos.

Sam had come home from his evening with Rhodey quiet and spent the next day or two hunched over his laptop whenever he had a chance. Steve wanted to ask him what he was doing, but figured this was one of those times he should give Sam some space and let him come to Steve in his own time.

Sam eventually did, laying out everything he had talked about with Rhodey and all the reading he had done. He was clearly nervous, unable to meet Steve’s eye for more than a few seconds, twisting and untwisting the dish towel in his hands over and over.

“Do you, um, is that something you could — is that something we could maybe consider?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but Sam cut him off. “And don’t just say yes because you think that’s what I want to hear. If it’s going to work, you can’t be doing it out of obligation or because you feel like you need to be some kind of a martyr or anything.”

Steve paused and actually considered what Sam was suggesting.

“So you would be with both me and Bucky? Would Bucky and I be together too?”

“No, not necessarily. That would be between you guys. You could be together, or just friends, or even just acquaintances. It seems like as long as everyone communicates and we make sure we all know what to expect, it can work however we want.”

Steve tried to picture it — Sam leaving his side to go out with Bucky. Sam coming back smelling like Bucky, or freshly showered so that he wouldn’t smell like Bucky. Seeing them together around town. The reaction in town.

“Is this even something we could do in a place like Henning?”

Sam’s face blanched. “Oh god, I hadn’t even thought about that. A gay interracial couple was already pushing it, but this...nevermind. It was a stupid idea. Just forget about it.”

“Hey, hey, hey — no, Sam. Breathe.” Steve grabbed Sam by the shoulders and rubbed his hands over his upper arms reassuringly. “It’s not a stupid idea. I’m just trying to think things through. Give me a minute.”

Steve thought, watching Sam while he got his breathing back under control. Sharing Sam would be hard anywhere, but it would be nearly impossible in Henning, with everyone watching and judging. But did they even want to stay in Henning for the rest of their lives? Sure, they loved the people, but Steve had to admit that moving here had mostly been a way for him to hide. And if he wasn’t doing that anymore, why not make a change?

So all he had to decide was whether or not it would be possible for him to share Sam with Bucky. He thought about Sam’s laugh when Bucky said something ridiculous. About the spring in his step when he came home from hanging out with him. About the way his face lit up when he saw him.

And none of those things made Sam look at Steve any differently. Steve knew that Sam still loved him just as much as he had before Bucky came to town. It was there in the way he kissed Steve in the morning and the way he teased him at the diner and the way he held him close in their bed.

“Okay.” Sam looked up at him, hope and fear clashing in his eyes. “We should try. I’ll probably get jealous and fuck up quite a few times, but I want you to have this. And maybe this is a good opportunity for us — Bucky’s gonna be starting school, so we can move to Memphis, I can work on pulling my head out of my ass, and you and him can give it a go.”

Sam studied his face, and must have found what he was looking for, because he broke into that wide, gap-toothed smile Steve wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. “Yeah? You mean that?”

“I mean it.” Steve leaned down to give Sam a kiss, soft and sweet and full of all the love and gratefulness he could pour into it. Sam deepened the kiss and dug his fingers into Steve’s back. They stumbled back towards the bedroom and didn’t let go of each other for the rest of the night.

 

Sam got up early the next morning, partly to have coffee with Steve and partly to try and catch Bucky before he went to work. He dropped Steve off at the diner, enjoying a kiss goodbye that wasn’t quite appropriate for that time of day, and then drove over to Valerie and Randall’s.

He took the steps up to Bucky’s apartment two at a time and knocked on the door. He had been grinning giddily all morning, but his smile faded when there was no response and he had to knock again. He pressed an ear to the door, but there were no sounds coming from inside the apartment.

Sam turned to go back down the steps, intending to head over to Rhodey’s and see if Bucky had decided to get an early start. He reached the bottom step just as Randall came around the corner of the house with a trash bag.

“Good morning, Sam!”

“Morning, Randall.” Sam jogged over to help Randall throw the bag into the trash bin.

“You looking for Bucky?” 

“Yeah, but it looks like he’s already gone to work.”

Randall closed the lid of the bin. “You didn’t know? Bucky left.”

Sam froze. “What?”

“He came home the other night, wild-eyed and slamming doors, and started throwing everything into his car. Told me and Valerie he had to leave, but wouldn’t say why, and then he drove off like a bat out of hell.”

“Was it Saturday night?” Sam asked, his heart sinking.

Randall thought for a moment. “Musta been, cause Valerie had made her meatloaf.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he put his hands in his pockets and shuffled a few steps toward the truck. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything?”

Randall nodded. “If you do the same. I’m gonna miss having him around. He’s a good kid — I hope he lands on his feet.”

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed roughly. “Yeah, me too.”

 

When Steve got home from the diner, the house was dark. Normally he would find Sam in the kitchen making dinner, or in the living room watching TV, but everything was quiet. He flicked the hall light on as he made his way to the bedroom. He pushed the door open softly.

“Sam?”

A crack of light from the hallway fell across the bed where Sam was curled up, the covers pulled up almost over his head. Steve pulled the blankets back and stroked Sam’s cheek. He looked like he’d been crying. Sam blinked awake.

“Steve? What time is it?” His voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

“Just past six. You feeling okay?”

Sam sat up, wobbling. “Oh God, I’m sorry. You must be starving. I’ll go get dinner started.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Steve pushed him gently back onto the bed when he tried to stand. “I’m fine; I’m a lot more worried about you. Lie back down.”

Sam did as he was told, and Steve kicked his shoes off and slipped into the bed next to him. He tugged at Sam until he turned over to face him, then tangled their fingers together.

“What’s going on?” His voice was soft in the darkness.

“I, uh...I went to talk to Bucky this morning. He — he wasn’t there.”

Steve waited, not saying anything, just stroking Sam’s fingers with his own.

“Randall said — he said that when he got home Saturday night, after we — after we kissed, that he packed up his things and said he had to leave. Just threw everything in his car and drove off. I tried to call him, but he won’t pick up or answer my texts.” Sam’s voice cracked and tears slid down his cheeks, leaving new tracks over the old ones that Steve had noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Sam sobbed, sounding so small Steve’s heart twisted his chest. He pulled Sam close so that he could bury his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, no, shhhhh.” He rubbed a hand up and down Steve’s back. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

He didn’t quite catch Sam’s mumbled response.

“What was that?”

Sam leaned back and scrubbed his face with a fist. “You shouldn’t have to comfort me while I cry over some other guy. That’s not fair to you.”

“Oh, Sam.” Steve pulled him back in. “You’re upset, and I love you and I want to be here for you. Let me worry about what’s fair to me.”

“I’ve only known him a few months. It shouldn’t hurt this much.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “Doesn’t matter how long. You care about him, and when you care about someone, you do it with your whole heart. Of course it hurts, baby.”

“I thought —” Sam hiccuped. “I thought we were gonna make it all work. I thought I could have everything. But I kissed him and I fucked everything up with you and now he’s gone.”

“Sam, look at me.” Sam reluctantly dragged his eyes up to Steve’s. “You haven’t fucked anything up with me. Am I glad you kissed Bucky the way you did? No. But we talked it out and we’re both here and we’re gonna be just fine. We’re gonna be better for it. And you _should_ be able to have everything — you deserve everything. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses and come back.”

Steve couldn’t quite believe it, but he meant what he said. Bucky would be an idiot not to come back for a chance with Sam, and if that’s what it took for Steve to never have to see Sam like this again, he would welcome Bucky back with open arms.

Sam twisted his fingers into Steve’s shirt and cried for a while longer, before eventually falling back asleep. Steve stayed with him the whole time.

 

Days passed and the holiday season descended on Henning. Wreaths hung on doors, trees appeared in windows, and lights were strung all over the trees and buildings in the town square. Christmas music played in the diner and there were red and green decorations everywhere. Miles spent an afternoon helping the oldest of Misty’s daughters cut out paper snowflakes to hang in the windows.

Sam was quieter than usual, more subdued. He was usually the one immersed in Christmas cheer, and he tried, but he couldn’t quite find it this year. He wore his tacky sweaters to work (he had enough to make it to Christmas without repeating any), helped Steve bake batch after batch of cookies, and even leant a hand building sets for the Nativity pageant at St. Mark’s, but it wasn’t the same.

He called his mom, told her everything that had happened, and cried all over again. She gave him encouragement and comforting words, but refused to provide any easy answers, as always. It was nice to know that she had faith in him, that she believed he would find his way through, but he still wished sometimes that she would just tell him what to do like she had when he was seven.

In the evenings, if they weren’t at one town event or another, Sam and Steve would curl up on the couch together. For all the work they had done, the house was still drafty, so they would pile on the blankets and build a fire in the fireplace to ward off the chill that had finally settled over the town. They would drink hot chocolate and watch ridiculous Hallmark channel movies; Steve still insisted that the only reason he watched them was to mock them, but Sam had heard him sniffle occasionally when the couple inevitably got their happily ever after.

One night before falling asleep, Steve asked him if he still wanted to move to Memphis like they had talked about.

“I don’t know. Seems kind of pointless now.”

Steve shrugged. “It might still be nice to have a fresh start. It wouldn’t have to be Memphis, either. We could move wherever we wanted, probably.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He drew small circles on Steve’s chest with his finger tip.

“I think we should at least take a vacation after the new year. Somewhere warm. One of those all-inclusive places. We can get endless drinks with little umbrellas in them and make out on the beach and get in trouble for skinny-dipping in the pool.”

Sam smiled up at him. “Of course that would be appealing to you. That all sounds pretty specific.”

“I may have priced out a few places.” Steve kissed his temple. “It would be nice to take a break, get away for a bit.”

“What about the diner?”

“The rest of the staff can handle it for a week or two. It’ll be good practice for if we decide to leave after all.”

“Yeah, okay. Warm sounds good.” Sam yawned and his eyelids drooped.

“Okay then. I’ll take care of it.” Steve gave him a kiss, small and sweet and familiar. “Go to sleep, Sam.”

Sam nuzzled closer into Steve’s warm body and did.


	13. Chapter 13

The laughter and music of the party next door drifted through the thin walls of Bucky’s new apartment. It was a small studio, but bigger than the apartment he’d had back in New York before he started travelling. Money went farther in Memphis, and he would be fine here on a month-to-month lease until he knew for sure how much tuition was going to be and how much assistance he would be able to get.

And it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of stuff to accommodate. When he rented the place, there had been a mattress, a chair, and small table left behind, along with a few pots and pans and a mismatched set of dishes. He’d thrown the mattress out, but kept the rest. He looked at his sleeping bag laid out in the corner and thought to himself that he really need to at least get a cheap futon or something.

Another peal of laughter sounded from next door and Bucky sighed, pulled on his boots, and grabbed his jacket. It was Christmas Eve, but it might as well have been just another day to him. He didn’t have any parties to attend or people to entertain. He left the apartment, figuring there had to at least be a drug store open somewhere where he could pick up something to eat and give himself a reason to get away from the festivities.

He’d done his best to maintain at least a semblance of positivity since leaving Henning, but he wasn’t having much success. He tried to focus on moving forward, starting school in January, all the things he had been excited about a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t as exciting without someone to talk about it with.

He missed his late night chats with Randall when Valerie was at the hospital. He missed Valerie’s cooking and her insistence on making sure he got a second helping and some dessert too. He missed working with Rhodey, keeping his hands busy, feeling useful. He missed sitting at the diner with Miles, talking about his homework and reading the latest updates from NASA.

He missed Sam. He missed the easy conversation and the sense of peace he felt when they were together. He missed the deadpan way they had joked together, and Sam’s joyous laughter when he couldn’t maintain the facade anymore. He missed his hands and his eyes and his smile and the little gap between his front teeth.

He was a mess.

But he was doing the right thing. Staying in Henning would only have led to trouble and even greater heartbreak. Sam may have kissed him that night in the diner, but Bucky knew he must have regretted it in the morning. Sam wasn’t going to leave Steve and he definitely wasn’t going to cheat on him. And as long as Bucky stayed, he would remind Sam of his mistake and Bucky would find it impossible to get over him.

Of course, knowing that he was doing the right thing wasn’t much of a comfort when he was alone on Christmas. 

He pulled into the parking lot of the drug store and went in, making a point to smile at the bored cashier. He felt guilty about taking advantage of someone having to work on the holiday, but not guilty enough to leave and go back to his apartment just yet. He wandered the aisles, throwing things into his basket: a new toothbrush, some fancy-smelling conditioner that he hoped would cheer him up, a package of hair ties. 

When he turned down the next aisle, he found himself standing in the hardware aisle, staring down at the paint rollers and tearing up. He and Sam had planned on redoing the front hallway and staircase, but after he got the job at the garage, they had never gotten around to it. 

He was berating himself for being pathetic enough to get emotional over a paint roller when Steve turned the corner.

 

Steve froze when he saw Bucky.

“Uh, hey, Steve.” Bucky’s voice was calm, but his body language screamed hesitation and caution. “What are you doing in town tonight?”

“Christmas Eve mass. Just needed to pick up a few things on my way home. The lightbulb in our closet went out...” He realized Bucky probably didn’t want to know, and trailed off awkwardly.

“Isn’t that usually at midnight?”

“For a lot of people, but I go to the earlier service, since I’ve got the long drive.” 

Steve’s mind was whirling; he needed to decide how to play this. He could walk away without saying anything. Sam would never have to know that he had run into Bucky, and they could continue to focus on getting their relationship back on track. Or he could tell Bucky everything — that he knew about the kiss, that Sam was devastated when he left, that he still had a shot if he wanted it. 

For all that he had told Sam about wanting him to have this chance with Bucky, it was different being the one with the power to possibly give it to him.

Bucky couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sam isn’t with you?”

“He wasn’t feeling well, so he stayed home this year.” Steve paused, watching Bucky nod at the floor. He made a decision. “Hasn’t been feeling all that great since you left, actually.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “What? What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

Steve shook his head. “He’s not sick.” He took a deep breath and looked at Bucky head on. “I know about the kiss, Bucky.”

Bucky’s whole body tensed and his eyes shifted, looking for exit routes.

“I’m not mad.” Bucky scoffed at him. “I’m not. I was upset, sure. But it’s not like I’m gonna go all caveman and fight you in the middle of a Walgreens.”

Bucky relaxed slightly, and Steve took it as permission to continue.

“Sam loves you.” Bucky gave a small gasp, but Steve kept talking. “He hasn’t said those exact words — I’m not sure he’s even admitted it to himself — but I can tell. And before we knew you had skipped town, we had talked things over and he was going to ask if you wanted more, wanted a relationship.”

“But...you and him…”

“We would stay together. But Sam would be with you too.” Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair. He really wished he wasn’t the one explaining this. “Look, I don’t really want to get into all the details here, and I’d probably do a shitty job of it anyway. Will you just come home with me?”

Bucky was gaping at him, dumbfounded.

“I know it’s a bit unusual, and there’s a lot we would have to talk about, but I can’t stand seeing Sam this sad, Bucky. Not when I know a way to fix it.”

“And you think me coming back...would fix it?”

“I know it would. Give it a chance? Come back with me and at least see what happens?”

He watched the emotions war on Bucky’s face and waited. He looked at the shelf, grabbed a package of lightbulbs, and threw them in his basket. He turned back to Bucky. There was something complicated going on in his eyes, but Steve thought it looked a little bit like hope.

“Okay?” Bucky said softly, sounding unsure.

“You asking, or do you mean it? Don’t come with me if you’re just gonna turn and run out on him again.”

Bucky shook his head. “I mean it. I don’t think I could leave him a second time.”

“Good.” Steve nodded. Bucky reached over and took a package of paint rollers off the shelf, and tossed them into Steve’s basket. Steve raised an eyebrow.

Bucky shrugged. “Sam wanted to redo the front hallway and the staircase.”

“Well, okay then.” He gave Bucky a wide grin. “Let’s go.”

 

Bucky recovered a bit of his composure and followed Steve to the register. They checked out, then drove back to Bucky’s place to drop off his car and pick up a bag. Steve waited in the truck while Bucky went to get his things. He looked around the apartment and ended up packing up everything he wanted to keep. He didn’t want to come back here; even if this whole thing blew up in his face, the place was too depressing. He would call the landlord after the holiday and end his lease.

The silence in the truck was probably awkward, but Bucky was too distracted to notice. Was he really going back to Henning? To start up a relationship with the best guy he’d ever known, who happened to already have a boyfriend? And the boyfriend was the one bringing him back? This was absurd; things like this didn’t happen in real life. And how would it all work anyway? What the hell was he doing?

Steve’s laugh jolted him out of his reverie.

“What?”

Steve didn’t say anything, just reached over to turn the volume up on the radio. Dolly Parton’s voice poured out of the speakers, the chorus of “Jolene” filling the truck, but Bucky didn’t find it quite as amusing as Steve seemed to.

“I don’t want to take him.” His voice was quiet, but Steve must have heard it anyway because he glanced over at him and turned the radio back down.

“I know. And he’s not a possession to be taken anyway. But he’s got a lot of love in him, and he wants to share some of it with you. I can be a stubborn idiot, but it turns out I can’t exactly bring myself to mind if you take that.”

Steve was too good to be true. Who said things like that? Who was that selfless, that generous? He had to be having some sort of fever dream, must have gotten drunk and passed out in his pathetic hellhole of an apartment or something.

Steve sighed and his face was serious again. “It’s not going to be easy. We’ve got a lot to figure out and I’m sure we’ll fuck it up sometimes. But I’m also sure that you showing up will be the best Christmas present Sam’s ever gotten.”

The sincerity in Steve’s voice was inescapable, and Bucky decided to trust that he knew what he was doing. He reached over and turned the radio back up, and they spent the rest of the drive in a much more comfortable silence.

 

“Sam!” 

“What?” Sam was on the couch in the living room, wondering why exactly Steve was shouting across the house.

“Come here!” 

“What? Why?”

“Because! I have something to show you!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m comfortable, asshole. Just bring it in here.”

“Oh my god, Samuel! Get your lazy ass up and come over here!”

Sam threw his blanket off and stood up, grumbling as he went. “What on earth is so important that you had to make me get up and come all the way —”

He stopped mid step and almost fell over. His eyes were wide and his heart was in his throat. Bucky was standing just inside his front door. Sam’s eyes roamed over him; he wasn’t as bad as he’d looked the first time Sam saw him, but the bags under his eyes were back and he looked thinner. Still, Sam drank him in, not quite able to believe he was really there.

He looked from Bucky to Steve and back again.

“Bucky? What…how did…” Sam trailed off, mouth gaping and head continuing to swivel between the two of them. Steve’s small smile didn’t do much to clear things up.

“I found him wandering around a Walgreens in Memphis. Told him he should come home with me.”

“You...you said that?” He looked to Bucky, who just shrugged, still looking unsure if he was welcome.

Steve stepped towards him and lifted a hand to his cheek. “I did. Merry Christmas.”

Sam didn’t have any words, so he just leaned in and kissed him. Steve let it continue for a while, then pulled back and dropped another quick kiss to his forehead.

“You guys need to talk. I’m gonna go cue up the movie. Take your time.” Steve disappeared and it was just him and Bucky in the entryway.

He’d thought a lot about what he would say, the questions he would ask if he ever saw Bucky again. None of it seemed important now.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky said, giving him a sheepish grin.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed. “I always liked when you called me that.”

Sam took a step closer. “Yeah? You gonna stick around so I can call you that some more?”

Bucky bit his lip. “If you want me to? I mean, Steve said you would, but if he was wrong, just say the word.”

Another step. If he stretched his arm out, his fingertips might just be able to brush against Bucky. “He wasn’t wrong. What did he tell you?”

Bucky took a step this time. “Not much. That you’re staying with him, but you also love me. That maybe that’s something we could all have.”

Sam swallowed roughly. He hadn’t let himself use the word love, but he wasn’t surprised that Steve knew. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Bucky was close enough now to reach out and grasp Sam’s elbow. Lightning shot through him at the touch. “Yeah, yeah I would.” He paused, studying Sam’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

Sam reached out and brushed his thumb against Bucky’s cheek. “Please…”

Where their first kiss was rushed and desperate and full of adrenaline, their second was nothing of the kind. It was a slow exploration, a tentative dance, an easing into the water so as not to be too shocked by the cold. They took their time, exhaling soft sighs into each other mouths, hands on arms and shoulders and necks, fingers digging into backs and waists.

Eventually Sam pulled back to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Bucky’s.

“What do you want, Sam? Where do we start?”

Sam slid his hand down Bucky’s arm to intertwine their fingers and smiled at their linked hands. “Steve and I watch Muppet Christmas Carol together every Christmas Eve. You want to join us?”

Bucky grinned at him, eyes shining. “That sounds great.”

In the living room, Steve had gathered a pile of pillows and blankets onto the couch. There was a giant bowl of popcorn and three mugs of hot chocolate, along with a bottle of bourbon. Steve looked up from his spot in the corner of the couch as they approached.

“We good?”

Sam looked over at Bucky, then back to Steve and smiled. “Yeah, we’re good.”

He settled into the couch, Bucky holding his hand on one side, Steve’s arm around his shoulders on the other. Steve pushed play and the familiar opening music of the movie filled the room. As they laughed at Rizzo and sang along horribly with the songs, Sam’s heart felt like it was about to burst.

He knew it wouldn’t always be like this. He knew there were conversations they needed to have and problems they needed to work out. They had a long road ahead of them, and it wouldn’t always be smooth.

But right then, in that moment, with his head on Steve’s shoulder and Bucky’s head on his, Sam had everything he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it, y'all! There should be a short epilogue posted in the next few days, but this is the end of the story proper. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and kudos and for being as excited as I was about this story. It's been a blast.
> 
> And before anyone asks, there are currently no plans for a sequel, but if I ever decide to revisit these three, I'll let you know :)


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, the epilogue is a bit more M-rated than T-rated. Sorry for those of you who were hoping for something more smutty - I didn't have it in me this time around :)
> 
> Oh yeah, and I used Google translate for the tiny bit of Spanish, so if it's way off, please let me know.

Steve had Sam pinned against the side of the pool, the concrete edge digging into the back of his shoulders. It probably should have hurt, but Steve kept him thoroughly distracted with wet kisses and roaming hands.

Steve had surprised Sam and Bucky with a trip to Mexico for the holiday. According to him they all deserved it — Bucky was doing great in his classes, Sam had been working crazy hours with the refugee aid organization (which he loved), and he’d actually been going to therapy consistently for a year now.

They’d been at the resort in Cancún for two days already and hadn’t seen much outside of their adjoining rooms yet. Tonight Steve had insisted that Sam come down to the pool with him, but they weren’t exactly swimming laps.

“Steve,” Sam moaned, fingers threading through the short hair at the back of Steve’s head, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “Quit teasing.”

Steve kissed him again, then pulled back with a loud smack. “You know, I don’t think I will. I like you like this.”

Sam absolutely did not whimper as Steve attached his mouth the edge of his jaw, his hands continuing to skate past all the places Sam really wanted them.

“¡Oye!” The beam of a flashlight swung across the pool. “¡La piscina está cerrada! ¡No le está permitido aquí!”

“Oops.” Steve gave him a mischievous grin. “We better run!”

Steve launched himself out of the pool, then turned to pull Sam up. They grabbed their swim trunks from where they had left them on the concrete and sprinted for the hotel, their laughter drowning out the shouts of the security guard behind them.

They slammed into their room and into each other, a tangle of grasping hands and sloppy kisses. Their sex life had never been bad, but the new openness between them had led to fewer inhibitions and more laughter than before. It didn’t hurt that Steve’s possessive side still sometimes came out to play, which always meant a very satisfying time and good night’s sleep for Sam.

“Glad to see the interruption didn’t kill the mood.” Steve’s tone was teasing, but his hands were finally making good on earlier promises.

“Mmmm, not at all,” Sam managed to gasp out. “Adrenaline just makes everything better.”

Steve laughed and shoved him farther into the room.

When they had their fill of each other (at least for the moment), they collapsed onto the bed, sated and panting. Steve got up a few minutes later and cleaned them both up. He leaned down for another kiss.

“You want Bucky?”

Sam heard him, but just hummed in response and kept his eyes closed. Steve chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Sam floated, the opening and closing of the door to the adjoining room and murmuring voices drifted past him. The bed dipped on either side of him. Steve’s arm slipped under his head and his other hand landed on Sam’s thigh. Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist and he kissed the back of his neck, the stubble on his cheek sending a shiver through Sam.

“Did Steve take good care of you, baby?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.” Another kiss, this one to that spot behind his ear. He groaned and shifted back into Bucky.

“Shhhh, sleep. We’ll have plenty of time in the morning. I’ve got plans for you.”

Sam turned his head so that he could give Bucky a real kiss. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, Sam.” Bucky whispered back.

He turned back towards Steve, pulling him in even closer. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Steve kissed his forehead, but Sam was already asleep, a smile still on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it after the last chapter, but I need to say it again - thank you SO SO much for all your lovely comments and kudos and for all the love you've given this story. I've had a blast writing it and I hope you had just as much fun reading it.


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